SALISBURY

 

Salisbury

A tale of resilience by S.P. in UK

Edited by strzeka

 

Chapter 1

 

“Dad, I’ll see you tonight.”

“OK Tim, have you got everything you need?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But a little nervous, I guess.”

 

Rather than respond with some trite phrase or encouraging epithet, Tim’s dad Ron walked across the hall to where his handsome son stood fiddling with his newly acquired shoulder bag, or ‘man-bag’ as his father had cruelly named it.

 

He took in the image of his much-loved boy. six foot two, blond hair cropped short, a deep dimple in his chin, wide-set blue eyes and plush lips just like his now-deceased mother.

 

Wrapping his strong arms around his only son, he hugged his closest blood relative as hard as he dared. It was still strange to feel unyielding plastic and metal press into his chest, but that was the new reality for Tim and his father as his son, his beloved son, now had prosthetic arms instead the warm flesh and bone limbs he was born with.

 

Pecking his lad on the forehead he spoke gently.

“You’ll be absolutely fine my boy. You know the boss and they’ve got the office all set up for you.”

“Yeah, I know, but still, it’s the first time since the accident that I’ve been out all day without you to call on for help.”

 

Ron pulled back from the hug and tilted his son’s jaw up with his left palm. “I think it’s called serendipity, Tim. You get a job in the exact place where they fixed you up. What better way to repay them than to give your all to the new job and to your colleagues?”

 

Tim smiled, knowing his father was right. After he had recovered medically from the cruel amputations performed on his arms, he had spent two months at the Salisbury inpatient rehabilitation unit learning how to use his replacement, artificial arms. A week before he was to be discharged from the unit the consultant orthopaedic surgeon popped in to the limb centre and made a bee-line for Tim.

 

The young man was speechless when he heard what the surgeon had to say.

“Tim, you’ve done so well these past weeks I guess you’re nearly ready to go home.”

“Yes, Mr Wiles but, but…”

“You’re a bit nervous?”

“Yes, more than a bit. I mean, I can manage fine now with these.” Tim nodded down towards the shiny split hooks that had replaced his hands.

“It’s more the reaction I get when people see my claws.”

Mr Wiles smiled wistfully. “That’s going to be with you for the rest of your life. It’s how you deal with other people that counts.”

“Well, I’m getting better at it and often forget I’ve got these rather than my own hands.”

 

Mr Wiles smiled, tapped him on the shoulder and said simply. “Have you got time for a coffee?”

“Er, yes, why?” Tim was taken aback. Within the unit Mr Wiles was a god, a man who spoke to you, and to whom you listened. You wouldd hardly imagine him inviting you for a chat and a coffee.

“I want to have a little talk about something which may interest you.”

 

Mr Wiles stood slightly behind Tim as he manipulated the coffee machine watching intently. He was impressed by the dexterity the young man demonstrated as he fed coins into the slot using his left hook and how he locked his artificial right elbow as he carried the plastic cup towards a table in his right hook.

“Impressed, Tim, impressed,” said Mr Wiles with a grin. Tim grinned back somewhat proud of his hard-learned new skills. Manipulating two artificial arms when you have neither elbow and just six inches of stump remaining of each arm was not easy. Tim had surprised and impressed all who had helped him through his rehabilitation. His determination to succeed was an inspiration to the medical team and other patients he had come into contact with.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Tim, more something to think about – seriously.”

Tim nodded.

“I read in your notes that you were a motorcycle mechanic before you lost your arms.”

“Yes, I worked at the BMW dealership in town.”

“And that’s how you lost your arms?”

“Yes. Armco barriers and flesh don’t get on too well when you hit them, but, I have to say, I’m lucky not to have done more damage.”

 

Mr Wiles smiled and cleared his throat.

“We’ve been planning to create a patient liaison officer position for a while now.”

The surgeon let this news sink in. Tim smiled.

“That’s a good idea. I mean, when I first came into the clinic I knew nothing.”

“Exactly, and the medical staff don’t have time to sort out things like mobile phones, clothes, special dietary needs and the like. this role is to look after the well-being of patients as they start their physical rehabilitation and until they’re discharged.”

 

“That’s a big job for someone!” Tim said with a laugh.

“Yes Tim, it is, how do you feel about applying for it?”

“What? Me?”

“Yes. You know what patients need having been one yourself”

“But I’ve got no arms!”

“Well, tell me then, Tim, how did that cup of coffee get over to the table?”

 

Tim fell silent for a moment. He flexed his shoulders simultaneously and watched as his two lifeless hooks opened and closed smoothly. After a while he looked up at the surgeon and smiled.

“I’ve not got many GCSE’s or anything like that.”

“You don’t need them. Just maths and English. We’ll then put you on an apprenticeship programme where you go once a week to college for a year. The rest is learnt on the job.”

Another broad smile came from the amputee’s broad lips.

“When can I start?”

Mr Wiles took Tim’s right hook in his hand and shook it gently.

 

Chapter 2

 

So, the day had come. Tim was standing at the threshold of his house being hugged by his father. It was a boiling hot September morning so he wore tailored navy blue shorts and deck shoes with no socks he could easily kick off if he needed to use his feet for some task. He’d put on a tight white short-sleeved shirt adapted with Velcro rather than buttons. He was conscious that the full extent of his prosthetics was on view but he sweated a lot because he’d lost so much skin after the amputations. he needed to keep as cool as he could. His new shoulder bag hung down at his side in which he had stashed his phone, wallet, a note pad and a bottle of water.

“Go on, son, you’re going to miss your bus.”

 

Tim left the house with his prosthetic arms in the relaxed position. He had unlocked the elbows with a shrug of his shoulders and a flick of his stumps. The arms swung as naturally as they could in time with his long stride.

 

The young man was well known in the city. His tragic story had been heavily publicised by the local newspapers and a ‘Just Giving’ page had been set up by his mates at the dealership. Tim was astounded to learn that over a hundred thousand pounds had been raised which he could use as he liked. He had stashed it away with a plan, one day, to purchase a home of his own.

 

The bus driver opened the door with a big grin.

“Hi Tim. Where are you off to so early in the morning?”

The young amputee blushed a little. It was early. Seven fifteen was not a time familiar to him since he last worked at the garage.

“Off to work.”

“Wow, well done. Back at the BMW dealership?”

“No, Salisbury hospital. I’m going to be the patient liaison officer in the rehabilitation unit.”

 

Suddenly Tim was aware of a ripple of applause coming from the body of the bus. The other passengers had overheard their conversation and clearly approved. Turning an even brighter shade of pink, Tim fished his bus-pass from his satchel with his hook and flashed it at the driver.

 

The bus was nearly full so he sat next to a yawning teenager dressed in school uniform. With a flick of his stumps and a click he locked his lifeless elbows at right angles and pulled out his pad and a pen. The young man sitting next to him looked on in amazement as Tim used his right hook to press a little catch on his left artificial wrist. He tapped the lever firmly to rotate and drop the hook to a steeper angle. Flexing his shoulder, he took the pencil into his hook and started writing methodically in a simple script.

 

The schoolboy just stared and stared, which Tim was conscious of.

“Took me three months to learn how to write again.”

“Wow! Your writing is neater than mine.”

“Practice, that’s all you need to do, practice.” The boy was unabashed.

“Where do your arms end?”

“Six inches from my shoulders.”

“Wow, so you’re using just those little stumps to move the whole arm?”

“Yes, it’s not easy, but I cope”

“You’re a bit of a superman, like a transformer!”

 

Tim smiled at the compliment. “What’s your name?”

“Andy, and I live at West Grimstead.”

“Ah the posh part of town!” quipped Tim.

“Well, sort of but Alderbury’s not bad.”

 Tim was warming to this young man. “How old are you?”

 The boy groaned. “Nineteen last week.”

“Gosh, I wish I was, I’m twenty-two now.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to be in my shoes. I flunked my A-levels so I’ve got to re-sit the whole year. My mates have gone up to uni and I’m with the kids from the year beneath me.”

“Bad luck, mate.”

“Yeah.”

“Right, I’ve got to get off here. Do you take the bus every day?”

“Yeah.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

 

Tim felt a little tense as he walked towards the rehabilitation unit reception. He need not have been. His former carers and now his colleagues all buzzed around him offering hugs and words of encouragement. Tim, having recovered from his ordeal, was now the perfect example for other injured patients to aspire to. His disability was devastatingly hard to deal with but he did it and his colleagues knew he would be a source of huge inspiration for others in a similar situation.

 

Tim found himself seeking out Andy each morning as he climbed on to the bus.

“Got through your first day OK?” asked the younger man as the double amputee dropped down beside him.

“Yes, it was good, they’re a really nice bunch and made me feel at home.”

“Seems like you’ve found yourself the perfect job, I wish my dad would let me leave school and go to work.”

 

Tim turned and smiled.

“I was never very academic but good with my hands, always fiddling with my motor bike and dad’s car so I became a mechanic at the local BMW dealer.”

Andy smiled back. He was rather taken by the blond man sitting next to him and fascinated by the metal hooks that had replaced his hands.

“Still, with these things, no way I could work on bikes now.”

Tim clenched his shoulders forward and opened the hooks, letting them snap shut with a click.

“No, these are pretty good, I guess, but...”

Andy’s next move surprised the young armless man. Instead of talking, he lifted his right hand and placed it carefully on his new friend’s left hook. Both men smiled so Andy leant in towards Tim’s ear saying softly.

“I think you’re really cute and very brave.”

They continued chatting but Tim was more than aware that this act of intimacy was affecting him somewhere perhaps it should not.

 

As he prepared himself for bed he was aware that the encounter with Andy was still exciting him so he reached down with his left prosthetic arm, rotated the hook and brought himself to an unusually persistent orgasm.

 

Chapter 3

 

Over the months, he’d become used to the artificial arms that hung from his broad shoulders. In fact, most of the time he forgot about them, using them as he had been taught, opening the hooks and flexing his plastic and metal hinged elbows using the cables which ran around and across his shoulders. However, every evening as he prepared himself for bed, the extent of his disability was obvious. The orthotics lab had built a frame to help him put on and take off the prosthetic arms. He was determined not to have to rely on his father for this part of his life.

 

Teeth brushed and loo used, Tim reversed up to the frame and leaned back until he felt the upper sockets of his prosthetics latch onto a smoothly formed pair of brackets. Bending his knees and with a slight shrug, he left the arms behind attached to the frame as he pulled his stumps out of the sockets.

 

He was free of his artificial arms, but now pretty much helpless. He used his teeth to remove each stump sock and then spent ten minutes flexing and stretching the short remnants of his once muscular arms. His stubs were six inches long on each side. He could just touch them together across his chest but it was a struggle. Happily, the stumps were symmetrical and strong so if he needed a sip of water in the night that was possible as long as a straw was in the glass.

 

If he needed to pee in the night, the one problem he had encountered was cured by a suggestion from his surgeon Mr Wiles. Tim mentioned the fact that he could direct his stream of pee OK without using his arms, but that he always dribbled because he could not shake or dab his foreskin. Tim was also conscious that he could not roll back his foreskin to clean it so he was embarrassed to have to let his dad carry out such and intimate task.

 

Tim was all ears for Mr Wiles possible cure.

“We’ll get Dr Ali to circumcise you.”

“What?”

“It’ll solve the issue. Just means your ‘little man’ will be doing without his little hat!” 

Laughing, Tim agreed and was booked in for the surgery to be carried out under local anaesthetic. He joked with Dr Ali that he was now a triple amputee and the surgeon had to stop for a minute to quell his giggles. Mr Wiles was right. That problem had now been solved and, amazingly, when he masturbated just a little lubrication on his hook did the trick with no risk of catching his foreskin. Tim was very happy to join the clan of circumcised men.

 

Tim’s first week flew by in a flurry of activity. He was now ‘on the other side’ of the curtain, an employee not a patient, and a man who naturally bonded well with colleagues. Tim had always known he was gay and that, somehow, made him comfortable with the gossip from the girls and the ribbing of his male colleagues. They were rooting for him to succeed and did all they could to help, subtly, if he came across an insurmountable hurdle.

 

“Gosh dad, I’m pooped!” Tim had completed his first week at work and what with the routine of early mornings and needing to concentrate on what he was being taught, he was glad when five o’clock came around on Friday.

“That’s good Tim. Better you are fully occupied and earning for yourself than relying on benefits feeling sorry for yourself.”

 

Tim’s dad was always sensible with a word of encouragement for his much-loved son. Together they’d got through the slow, agonising death of Tim’s mum who faded away with motor neurone disease four years earlier. Father and son grew closer and their bond was so strong that neither had felt the need to challenge the depth of their friendship by forming a relationship with somebody else.

 

Secretly this bothered them both, but they didn’t discuss it. Tim hoped that his dad, still only forty-two and incredibly fit from triathlons would find a new girlfriend or wife. Ron hoped above hope that his severely disabled son would find a life partner. Ron knew his son was gay. Tidying up his room after the disastrous bike accident, he’d found a stash of magazines that featured men, not women. He cared not. Two of his mates were gay and they lived happy and fulfilling lives.

 

“What do you fancy doing this weekend?”

Ron was always on the move. If he wasn’t training for yet another triathlon he was hiking in the Welsh mountains or sailing off Portsmouth. His job as an insurance underwriter paid well and he used every minute of the day to the fullest.

 

Tim hesitated, which his dad noticed immediately.

“I’ve been chatting to this guy on the bus each morning”

“That’s good, what’s he like?”

Tim explained that he was a nineteen-year-old, retaking his A-levels.

“Sounds like a nice bloke.”

“Yeah, he seems to be.”

“And?”

“He’s asked if I’d like to go and watch him play football on Saturday. Apparently, he plays for the Salisbury Colts on the left wing.”

“Must be a fast runner then!”

“Guess so, he’s a little taller than me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Andy Curtis.”

“Mmm, Curtis, Curtis” repeated his father. “Does he live up in West Grimstead?”

“How did you know?”

“I play golf with his dad.”

“Wow!”

“Well, I can tell you, Tim, that they’re a really nice family. Andy’s got a younger brother called Roger and his mum’s named Susie, a teacher and father’s Ralph, MD of a boat manufacturer in Southampton.”

Tim smiled, slightly relieved that Andy came with a good pedigree but a little concerned that he was too posh to want to be hanging around with an ex-mechanic with metal and plastic arms.

 

He voiced his concerns.

“Might be a bit too posh for me then.”

Ron cuffed his son playfully across the chin.

“Don’t be silly, they’ve got money but no airs and graces. perfectly normal people.”

Tim smiled, feeling happier and happier with this news. Ron fixed his son with a quizzical stare.

“What does he say about those?” nodding towards Tim’s hooks. Tim blushed. he was still so vulnerable even though his external demeanour was confident.

Tim furrowed his brow.

“He’s asked me all about them, how they work, what they feel like to use, you know, the normal stuff an inquisitive nineteen-year-old wants to know, I guess.”

Ron smiled.

“Do you like him?”

Tim blushed and looked his dad in the eye.

“Er, yes I do, I mean…”

“It’s all right, son. I believe I’m correct in thinking you’d prefer to be with a man rather than a woman?”

Tears streamed from Tim’s eyes. He turned on his heel but Ron was too quick. He took his son in his arms and hugged him tight, really tight, not caring that the metal and plastic of his son’s artificial arms dug into his chest.

“I’ve thought that you might be gay for a few years.”

“How did you know?”

“Nothing specific, just a few hints and few comments you’ve made, and, most tellingly, the way you sometimes stare at a good-looking guy in the street.”

“Dad, it’s true, but after mum died I thought it best to hold off all these feelings, I mean, you needed me and I now need you so the thought of getting into a relationship and perhaps leaving you on your own was too horrible and selfish.”

 

Ron turned his son towards him and said quietly. “It’s the way life should be. You find yourself a mate and maybe, just maybe, I can too. Your mother always told me that she hated the idea of me being on my own and, well, in the past few weeks I’ve been seeing Jenny.”

“Jenny?”

“Yes, she lost her husband in Iraq ten years ago. He was in the army and got blown up.”

Tim smiled, happy for his father.

“It’s early days but she’s really lovely and I think she’ll like you. Oh, by the way, she’s got a son named Rex, the same age as you.”

“Oh great!”

“Yes, but he followed in his fathers’ footsteps and is currently a marine serving in Afghanistan.” Ron hesitated. “I guess it’s in the blood.”

 

Chapter 4

 

Smartphones were not Tim’s best friend but he coped. He used a rubberised stylus in his metal hook with his elbow locked. This allowed him to manipulate the screen and he spent a happy evening watching TV with his father exchanging texts with Andy. They were getting more and more steamy as the evening wore on, coming to an end only when Tim finally made his excuses and went to bed.

 

Ralph, Andy’s father, was coming to collect Ron and his disabled son in the morning. He was to drop Tim off at the football club, play eighteen holes of golf with Ron, then pick the boys up and go for lunch. As Tim dressed that morning he became increasingly nervous about meeting twenty, perhaps more, fit young footballers with all their limbs intact. Wherever he went, to a shop or on the bus he was stared at because his arms were stumps fitted with clumsy artificial arms and their ugly, somewhat intimidating hooks. How he wished he had his arms back but that was never going to be. He would always be the object of curiosity and sometime the subject of unpleasant or unthinking comments.

 

The weather was cool so he pulled on jeans, a T-shirt and a grey ‘Superdry’ hoody. Dressing was hard work without hands or elbows. He had to work the cables of his prosthetics with his shoulders to lift his plastic forearms and open the metal hooks. Eventually he was happy with his appearance and with both hooks in the pouch of his hoody he looked normal, at least normal enough to avoid attention. Only if he had to pick something up or shake hands would his disability be revealed.

 

Ralph knew all about Tim’s limblessness so simply took a stride towards the armless man and patted him on the shoulder.

“Andy’s already at the pitch warming up. We’ll drop you off and then see you about twelve thirty.”

“Thank you Mr Curtis.”

“Ralph, please call me Ralph!”

 

Seatbelts defeated Tim. He just did not have the dexterity so he was pleased and a little surprised when Ralph leant across, grabbed the buckle and slotted it home.

“Took delivery of this monster last week, want to see what she can do?”

Tim giggled. He knew the car well from his days as a mechanic. BMW X5 with the five litre V8.

“Jesus!” shouted Ron as the two-ton monster surged forward. “Are you back driving Tim?”

 

It was a bit of a sore subject for the young amputee.

“No, unfortunately. I’m having a battle with the so-called experts at Motability”

“Why’s that?”

“Apparently, they cannot agree on the type of conversion I should have.”

 Ralph urged him on to explain.

“One of the engineers wants me to drive using my stubs on levers either side of the seat back, and another thinks I should drive using a circular plate in the foot well.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I just want a normal automatic car with a ring on the steering wheel and a remote-control pad for things like the wipers.”

“Well, why can’t they give you that?”

“I really don’t know. I think I’m stuck in the middle of an argument between two old farts!”

Ralph snorted. “If you need this pushing along, let me know. The CEO of Motability is a member of my golf club.”

Ron smiled. Good to have people in high places!

 

Tim tensed as they drew up in the club car park. The two competing teams were stretching and warming up before the match. Released from the seat belt, Tim walked forward gingerly hoping not to be noticed. He snuck in behind a family intent on enjoying the match and hoped to go unnoticed. He kept his hooks in the pouch of his hoody so no one paid him any attention at all.

 

He immediately spotted his new mate. Andy. Stylishly cut brown hair and three day stubble complimented his green eyes and tanned skin. Tim swallowed as he watched the athletic frame of the man run gracefully across the turf. His body was lithe, his posture erect, and his speed astounding. He was drawn to the way he pumped his arms back and forth as he ran, something the amputee would never do again. Tim’s heart fluttered but then his spirit dropped.

‘No way is a bloke like that going to be interested in a fucking armless cripple like me.’

 

Turning on his heel, Tim made his way through the growing swell of spectators. He would catch the bus back home. He had no wish to be embarrassed in front of strangers. Four steps into his retreat, he heard a shout.

“Tim, mate, wait, I’m over here!”

Swivelling around, Tim watched dejectedly as the athletic form of his new friend sprinted towards him. Panting slightly Andy asked. “What is it mate?”

 Tim looked at the ground, examining his side-zipped boots.

“Andy, this was a mistake, I’m slowly getting used to going out on my own but this, well, is a step too far with such a large crowd.” Andy placed his arm across the amputee’s shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t flinch at the hard cable his fingers touched, he just drew him closer and whispered in his ear.

“Tim, look, you may find this hard to understand but I don’t give a fuck about your arms. Er, well I do, but they don’t stop me having feelings for you.”

 

Tim jerked away and set his jaw.

“So this is the ‘pity the poor cripple routine’, is it?”

Andy tried to smile, but was taken aback by the anger in Tim’s voice.

“No mate, not at all, I think you’re cute, kind, bright and fun. I just want to be your mate, well, special mate.”

“Well, I don’t want to be your mate. I’m not worth the effort, not with these fucking things” Tim struggled to pull his prosthetic arms from the pockets of his hoody and thrust them forward so they gently punched his mate’s chest.

“Yeah, right, so you want to see me struggle every day and watch me try to wipe my arse, or drop things when I grab onto something clumsily?”

Andy smiled patiently.

“Oh, yes, you and your crippled armless friend on a beach with my pathetic little stumps on show. Me the object of curiosity and pity? Yeah, I guess you’d be really proud to show me off to your mates.”

“Tim, listen to me, please.” The amputee fell silent.

“I don’t know where this friendship will go, but I want to try. We’ve got something special. You know that and I’d be proud of you wherever we are and wherever we go. Yes, you’ve got stumps instead of arms, but I can love them as much as I can love the rest of you.”

 

The reply was some time in coming.

“I need a lot of help.”

“Yeah, and so do I.”

Tim looked puzzled.

“I’m coming to terms with being gay. Just as you are. You’re older, wiser and have common sense. Why does you having no arms prevent us from growing up together?”

 

Wise words from someone so young. Tim nodded and Andy reached up to wipe a tear from the amputee’s eye.

“Can’t even wipe away my own fucking tears,” said Tim defeated.

“Well, let me fill in the gaps when you can’t manage. Let me be your mate when you feel down as long as you promise to do the same for me.”

 

Their attention was drawn to the long blow of the referee’s whistle. It was kick-off.

“Stay and watch, will you?” pleaded Andy.

Tim nodded and shuffled into the crowd where his substantial disability was rendered invisible. Contrary to his first thoughts, he really got into the game. Andy was fast and agile. Tim found himself cheering when the left winger scored a goal and didn’t even think when, at the end of the match, he pulled his prosthetics from his pockets and clacked the hooks together in applause. Andy’s team had won and Andy’s new boyfriend was oh so proud.

 

“Hang on a minute, I’ll get changed and text dad, then we can go to lunch.”

Tim nodded, glad that Andy hadn’t forced him to greet his hot and sweaty team-mates as they streamed off the pitch. One of the older players gave him a curious double look, but Tim put that down to the fact that his photo had been all over the local press after his bike accident.

 

Andy emerged from the club building with his games bag slung over his shoulder. He looked troubled.

“Tim, mate, my dad took a tumble on the thirteenth hole and is in A&E.”

“Oh shit! What’s he done?”

“Seems he might have broken his ankle.”

“Shall we go up to the hospital?”

“Dad says no. Ron’s with him and mum’s on her way. Dad and Ron told me to take you out for some lunch and then they’ll call when dad’s on his way home.”

 

Tim bumped his shoulder against Andy’s. It was the most intimate thing he could do apart from kiss him in his armless state.

“Are you sure?”

Andy pondered for a minute.

“Yeah, he’s in safe hands and we’ll just clog up the waiting room. Fancy going to The Bull?”

The pub in question was a sixteenth century establishment noted for good, simple fresh food. Because of its layout, there were plenty of nooks and crannies with intimate seating. Andy had already worked out that his mate wanted somewhere a little private to chat and eat, as he had no idea how a man with two full-length prosthetic arms was going to consume his lunch.

 

“Er, yeah, good choice.”

“You don’t seem sure?”

“Listen, Andy, this is going to be a steep learning curve for us both, see, because eating is one of the hardest things to do with these.”

Tim pulled his hooks from his hoody pocket and flexed his shoulders to lift first the left and then the right forearm up to a ninety degree bend.

“I need help cutting things up and I have to strain forward to reach the food on my fork.”

 

“Show me and we’ll see how we get on. Deal?”

Tim nodded, his stomach churning at the thought of being stared at in public yet again. As they walked towards the pub, Andy chatted away about the game and the goal he had scored. He knew his mate was nervous as hell but he wanted to try to make their next, and most intimate, get together as comfortable for the amputee as possible.

 

Hungry from exercise, Andy sighed with pleasure as a fat sirloin steak, oozing bloody juices was laid in front of him. Tim looked down at the prawn risotto he’ had chosen with trepidation. He leant forward and took a sip of coke from the straw his new best friend had thoughtfully placed in the bottle.

 

“This is really embarrassing mate. I really don’t want you to see how much I struggle to eat.” Andy looked up from his steak and smiled warmly and openly.

“Anything you need me to do?”

“No, not with something like a risotto. Just don’t stare, promise?”

“Why shouldn’t I stare at the most handsome bloke in the pub?”

Andy knocked his knee against Tim’s as a sign of reassurance and friendship.

“Oh shut up, you idiot. ‘Mr Transformer arms’ is hardly going to win any beauty prizes!”

 

Andy was pleased that he had made his armless mate quip back.

“So, how do you eat? Show me.”

 Tim furrowed his brow.

“I was, er, I am still left handed.” Andy nodded. “So first I have to lock my left elbow at ninety degrees.”

Andy watched fascinated as the amputee shrugged his shoulder and the plastic forearm with its attached hook rose up, as if by magic. The elbow clicked noticeably.

“So, that’s now locked and can’t drop. If I now lift my left stump the hook kind of arcs towards my mouth.”

“Yeah, I can see.”

Tim used his right hook to push a little button on the artificial left wrist.

“This button drops the hook down and locks it into place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I now have to position the spoon in the hook.”

“Ah, OK.”

Tim strained his right shoulder forward and Andy looked on, impressed, as the hook smoothly opened. With a little prodding and manipulation, Tim positioned the handle of the spoon at the edge of the table and opened his left hook. He grasped the spoon handle carefully and relaxed the hook so the pincers closed around the spoon.

 

His next move was to try to see if the spoon would reach his mouth when he swung his left stump forward. It nearly did. He raised his right hook again, tapped the wrist unit so it rotated slightly and smiled, triumphantly, when his first attempt scooped up a good portion of risotto which reached his mouth perfectly. He had to lean in to meet the spoon as it reached the end of the arc, but he was feeding himself.

 

Andy sat back in his chair and grinned.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool mate, I guess it took you a long time to learn that?”

Tim nodded, his mouth full of prawn. Andy leaned in, conspiratorially. Tim leaned in to catch his whisper.

“Can you wank off with those hooks?”

Andy winked and Tim let out a deep laugh.

“Yeah, I can, always feels like someone else is doing it for me!”

The ice was broken, the mood convivial and intimate. Both men were secretly relieved that they had passed another hurdle in their blossoming relationship.

 

Meal over, Andy paid, refusing to let Tim contribute.

“It’s fine, you pay next time.”

 Tim nodded and smiled, he was looking forward to the next time very much.

 

Chapter 5

 

Andy’s mobile tinkled quietly and, reading the text, he confirmed that his dad was home, but in a plaster cast.

“I’ll drop you off home and text you later, OK?”

“Yes, give him my best.”

Suddenly Tim realised that the coke had passed right through him and he needed a pee. “Andy, I’m in a bit of bother, mate.”

“What is it?”

“I need to have a piss and I foolishly put on these new jeans. The zip’s really stiff and…”

“No problem. Come with me.”

The pub had a modern toilet block to the rear by the carpark, so the two men made their way towards the facility. Tim breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that there was a dedicated cubicle with a wheelchair and baby changing sign.

 

“We’re in luck,” said Andy. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Tim blushed.

“It’s all right mate, I’ve just come out of a shower room with twenty-six sweaty footballers all showing off their wedding tackle. Another cock is hardly going to faze me!”

“If you pull down the zip, I can manage.”

Andy obliged and watched, fascinated, as the man with two prosthetic arms reached into his open fly and pulled out a not insubstantial penis.

“Wow, you’re cut!”

“Yeah, let me finish and I’ll explain.”

 Tim told him the story of why he had been circumcised and Andy could only nod, understanding how sensible a move it had been to have his foreskin removed. He laughed deeply when Tim recanted the urologist’s reaction to him now being a triple amputee.

“I’d love to get myself circumcised. It looks so much neater and cleaner.”

Tim nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you? We’d then both be amputees!”

Andy let the thought roll around his head. He would ask dad because he had seen that his father was also circumcised.

 

Andy reached across Tim’s lap and secured the seatbelt copying what he had seen his father do earlier that day.

“I really enjoyed my day out with you. Somehow having a mate with me makes having these things just a little more bearable.”

 He shrugged his shoulders, opened both hooks and let them close with a sharp click. Andy leaned in for a kiss.

“Mate, we’re going to be OK, you and me.”

“Andy, I think we are, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Let me thank you for giving me the chance to get to know you.”

 

The teenager groaned as he released a thick jet of sperm into his hand. His mind was full of images of Tim. His handsome face, the smile when he was relaxed and the way he struggled to use his prosthetic arms. He found the metal hooks a little scary but fascinating and he was a little abashed to call up an image in his mind of Tim stroking his own cock with a hook. Would he be brave enough to ask Tim to do that for himself?

 

The men’s courtship ran as well as could be expected. Tim, on occasion, became over-wrought by the extent of his disability and remained insecure. Each time a text appeared on his phone from Andy, he dreaded opening the message. He always expected it to be the ‘Dear Tim, I think we need some time apart’ sort of excuse to bring their relationship to a close.

 

That message never came. As time went by, Tim started to relax into the relationship, started to trust Andy’s intentions and to realise that although he was a severely disabled young man, it did not prevent him from forming a close bond with another man. Three months into their relationship, Andy thought it time to move it on another step. His father’s leg had recovered and he wanted some time in the sun to recuperate. Ten days in the Bahamas had been booked and Andy was to be alone at home looking after the family labrador.

 

“Well, that was a bore!” Andy was on the phone to his mate.

“First the M3 was all snarled up and then roadworks into Heathrow. Just as well we left plenty of time.”

With his parents and younger brother Roger on their way to Antigua, and with half-term just started, Andy was ‘home alone’ and planning to enjoy the time without his parents and annoying little brother.

“Yeah, I’m home alone as well,” said Tim, somewhat conspiratorially. “Dad and Jenny are in Anglesey for the week walking the mountain trails!”

Andy swallowed and almost whispered into the phone.

“Well, why don’t you and I spend a couple of days together?”

Tim swallowed. “You mean, like, all day?”

“Yeah, and all night.”

 

There was silence, Tim’s head was spinning. He knew this moment would come. In fact he was longing for it to come, but he was terrified. How on earth could he reveal his crippled body to his mate without him running a mile?

“Er, Andy, I’m not sure.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know why?”

“Yes, it means I get to see you in your birthday suit. Well, I hope I will.”

“You won’t like it, I promise.”

“How do you know?”

Tim stifled a sniff, which could have easily turned into a sob.

“Cos I’ve got no fucking arms, that’s why!”

Andy’s soothing voice dripped down the telephone line.

“Haven’t you worked it out yet that I love you?”

“You can’t. I’m not worthy of your love.”

“Why?”

“Cos I’m a cripple! You know exactly why!” Tim almost shouted.

 

Rather than countering Tim’s exclamation, he changed tack.

“So tell me Tim. What do you think about me?”

This time the sob escaped and was repeated as Tim fought with his emotions. As he regained his composure, the young amputee found a fragile courage, a sense of purpose and a deep sense of emotional and physical desire.

“Andy, I love you. I have for months but I’m scared. Scared you’ll hate my body, scared you’ll get bored with my limitations, petrified that I’ll give myself to you and then you’ll dump me when you get fed up of wiping my arse or just annoyed when I can’t do things as quickly or as well as you can.”

The sobs recommenced and Andy gave Tim time to regain his composure.

“Are you still there?” asked the amputee, timidly.

“Yes. I want you to come to my house, talk this through and then let me prove just how much I really do love you.”

“OK, but if it gets too much, I’ll make my way home.”

“Of course. You’re in control.”

“Thanks.”

 

Chapter 6

 

Tim had packed a few items into his shoulder back and waited nervously for Andy’s VW Golf to pull up on his drive. The passenger door was flung open by Andy from the driver’s seat and the armless lad slid into the car. Without a word, Andy reached across and secured the seatbelt, grazing his lips against his mate’s.

 

“I’m proud of you Tim. You’ve found a lot of courage to go ahead with this and face up to your fears.”

Tim turned and smiled.

“Andy, I so want this but it’s a huge step for me.”

“I know. It is for me as well. We’re both virgins so let’s take our time. Let’s learn together.”

 

A second can of beer had relaxed them both. Neither were big drinkers, but the soothing effect of the weak alcohol loosened their inhibitions and their mutual anxiety was fading. Andy moved from the swivel chair to sit next to his boyfriend.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Tim nodded and closed his eyes. Andy stroked his boyfriend’s hair and traced out his fine facial features with his fingertips. He lapped his tongue around and into Tim’s ear then slowly descended until his lips were firmly planted on his partner’s. Tim opened up from the probing of his lover’s tongue and bucked as he felt the firm muscle enter his mouth.

“Ah, that is so sweet,” muttered Tim, his mouth nearly full. Andy, although the younger of the two, was the more assertive and continued his oral assault using his hands to massage his lover’s neck. As his hands descended to Tim’s shoulders, the amputee froze, worried how his boyfriend would react to the straps and harnesses that kept his prosthetic arms attached to his stumps.

 

“It’s OK, OK,” whispered Andy. Moving from Tim’s shoulders, Andy took the amputee’s closest hook into his hands. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. Tim’s nostrils flared and his eyes grew as big as saucers as he watched his mate make love to his prosthetic claws. “There’s no need to do that!” the armless boy exclaimed. Andy just smiled and took the other hook in his hands and kissed it like its partner.

 

He was getting more adventurous so he took off his T-shirt to reveal his footballer’s torso. Tim let out a sigh.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

“And so are you, Tim.”

The amputee was now putty in his lover’s hands. He did not object as Andy eased off his own T-shirt to reveal the complicated apparatus that served as Tim’s arms and hands. Tim knew he could not actually feel Andy kissing and caressing his prosthetic arms, but just the sight of his lover making love to the plastic and metal facsimiles of his real arms was so touching and, as his cock confirmed, erotic.

 

Tim sighed and giggled. He was so content and confident that Andy had no fear of his artificial arms. He could look at them, touch them and make love to them without grimacing or showing any disgust. Tim had an idea and sat back a little, disentangling himself from the teenager. Without saying a word, the amputee strained both shoulders so the forearms with their menacing hooks rose up to a right angle. Andy heard the familiar double click as both elbows locked. Although it was slightly awkward, Tim used his short stumps as levers to run the hooks over Andy’s face, neck and shoulders. He got more adventurous, egged on by the groans of pleasure emanating from his mate’s lips. Opening the hook, he tweaked Andy’s erect nipple making the able-bodied boy shiver.

“Oh, oh!” was all he could say.

 

Both boys sat back, looking into the other’s eyes intently.

“Come with me!”

Tim followed his bare-chested mate into the bedroom which was dimly lit and furnished just as a teenager’s would be. A set of weights, an electronic drum kit, PC and a few clothes left where they had been dropped.

 

Andy reached towards the amputee’s fly and lowered the zip. He popped the waist button and watched as Tim used his hooks and feet to edge down his skinny jeans. He was soon able to step out of the crumpled trousers. He stood, naked apart from his prosthetics and tight briefs which were clearly bulging. Andy copied, never once taking his eyes off his lover. He sucked in the images of lust and the exotic apparatus which served as Tim’s arms. He moved in, holding the amputee in his arms, lips locked with lips, caring not that his bare flesh was being compressed and scratched by the hard elements of Tim’s artificial arms. They rubbed crotches, both savouring the scent of two men as their levels of excitement rose.

Tim stood back and smiled.

“This is better than I ever imagined. I can’t believe you touched and caressed my artificial arms!”

“Well, mate, they’re part of you, aren’t they? I know you can’t feel what I’m doing to them, but you can certainly watch me.”

“I know it’s silly, but it did actually seem like I could feel you touch them.”

“Maybe it’s because the slight movements I cause when I touch them vibrates your stubs?”

 

Tim looked down at his feet.

“What is it, mate?”

“My stubs. You’ve yet to see my stumps.”

Andy took a step and embraced his lover.

“I’ll love ’em as much as I love the rest of you.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.”

Tim had lost all fear now that Andy had demonstrated in such an honest fashion his lack of concern over Tim’s missing arms. He smiled, cranked his elbows to ninety degrees and approached his lover. With a bit of manipulation, he managed to slip each hook into the elasticated waistband of Andy’s underpants. With another shrug, he eased them over his hips allowing the teenager’s well-shaped cock to spring free. Tim noticed that his lover’s groin was free of hair, something he was pleased to see. His own pubic hair growth was slight, but try as he might there was absolutely no way he could manipulate a razor in his metallic hook to remove the remaining wisps of hair.

 

Andy reciprocated and the amputee’s groin was now bare.

“I love your cock. It llooks so good without a foreskin.”

 Tim smiled. “Did you talk to your dad?”

“Yup, it’s all booked in the day after they return from holiday. I’m a bit nervous though.”

“I was, too, but after a few weeks it was healed and so much better. Wanking is so much nicer now the head of my cock is free of that silly bit of skin.”

 

Tim moved in closer. His nervousness having almost evaporated, lust was driving him forward and his desire to show his boyfriend that he truly did love him. Taking a chance, Tim dropped his left forearm and let it swing freely from the metal and plastic elbow. With a bit of an effort and moving slightly to the side, he rubbed his hook along the length of Andy’s cock. “Wow!” was all the boy could say. Not wanting to be selfish, Andy reached down and encircled Tim’s equally erect penis in his right hand.

“Double wow! That’s the first time since my accident that I’ve felt a hand on my cock.”

“You mean you have had other men do this for you?” said Andy teasingly.

“No, of course not. The last hand on my prick was my own!”

“Well, you’ll never have to worry about that again.”

 

The intimacy, the occasion and their pent-up excitement rapidly drove the two lads to orgasm. Tim splashed warm sperm across his lover’s thighs as Andy shot bolts of cum across Tim’s prosthetic hooks. They nearly fell on the floor, so jelly-like were their legs, but they made it to the sofa where they made out some more and relaxed into each other’s arms.

 

“Fancy a shower?”

 Tim moaned softly, his fears had departed and he was at peace.

“Yeah, I’m all sweaty and sticky.”

“OK, let’s do it and I’ll make us some supper.”

Andy immediately felt Tim stiffen in his arms.

“What is it mate?”

Tim’s eyes opened in a moment of panic.

“The bathroom is a mine-field for me since my arms were amputated.”

Andy nodded.

“The prosthetics are not waterproof so I have to cope without them and my bathroom is all fitted out just for me.”

“So?”

“Well, you’ve got none of the apparatus I need to wash without my arms on.”

Andy held out his own arms, flipping the palms through a hundred and eighty degrees.

“Well, we’ve got these. Do you think they’ll do?”

Tim answered with a shy smile.

“I guess so.”

Andy was slightly taken aback when, instead of turning towards the bathroom, Tim flexed his left prosthetic, reaching across to Andy’s hand. He gently opened the split hook and let it close around Andy’s thumb. For some reason the able-bodied teenager found the firm grip on his digit somewhat exciting. Using a slightly awkward motion he drew it to his mouth and studied the hand in detail.

“What’s up, mate?”

“You have no idea how much I miss these.”

“What your fingers?”

“Yeah, we all take them for granted until they’re not there. These ten little scraps of skin, bone and sinew are works of art. When you lose them it’s like a part of the world has been shut off and made inaccessible. Things we all do without thinking. Like undoing a lid, scratching an itch, opening a can of pop. They’re all now difficult if not impossible for me.”

“I’m beginning to understand.”

“You never will, fully, unless you lost a part of your body as I have.”

“No, I guess I won’t.”

“Do you know there’s something else I miss?”

Andy could not even guess.

“Look at your fingernails.”

Andy blushed, knowing exactly what Tim was referring to.

“Bitten.”

“Yup.”

“Badly!”

“Uh huh.”

“I used to, just as short as yours and I miss it terribly.”

Andy smiled. “Anytime you fancy having a nibble have a go at mine.”

Tim smiled but his mind was now full of other things. The impending revelation of his fully naked body to his new lover.

 

“This is the worst bit ever. You’re now going to see what being crippled really means.”

Andy smiled, somewhat solemnly.

“I’m OK with it, if you are.”

“Might as well get it over with.”

“I’m going to need your help now. Once these bloody things are off, I’ve only got my feet to work with.”

“You can use your feet?”

“Oh yes. they make a hell of a difference. I can’t quite get them high enough to brush my hair, but I can hold a spoon with my toes and feed myself.”

“Wow, you’re supple.”

“Had to learn. I can even text with my toes!”

Andy let out a deep laugh. “I’m looking forward to you tossing me off with your feet!”

“I can do that,” came the reply with a silly grin.

 

“Stand behind me and take hold of the harness on both sides.”

“OK.”

“Now I’m going to shrug my shoulders and you take the weight as I pull my stumps out of their sockets. Ready?”

“Yup.” Andy looked on in amazement as he watched Tim disentangle himself from the full‑length prosthetic arms. Andy was taken aback by the weight of the appliances and carried them gingerly to a soft chair where he let them rest. It was more than peculiar to see an essential part of his boyfriend now lying motionless and lifeless.

 

Tim was looking at his feet, clearly embarrassed. Saying nothing, Andy wrapped his arms around his lover and hugged him tight. This was the first time he had felt his flesh unimpeded by metal and plastic. He was conscious of Tim having raised his socked stumps against his own chest. The stubs gripped Andy’s upper torso and Tim used them to stroke his lover as best he could.

 

Andy took a step back, smiling. He reached first to the left and then the right stump quickly removing the socks that covered them. Tim shuddered and groaned as he felt Andy’s hands take each short limb remnant in his warm hands. His eyes widened further as Andy then ran his tongue across the stumps one by one.

“Jeez, that’s unreal!” was all the amputee could find to say.

“I told you I was going to love you and now I’m loving your stubs. I know you must hate them but to me they’re a part of you. I love them as much as I love you.”

 

Tim sighed as he lay back against Andy’s naked chest. They spent the week together while their parents were away and had found themselves welded together, both physically and emotionally. Andy had learnt quickly how to unobtrusively fill in the gaps caused by Tim’s lack of arms. This allowed Tim to spend more time with his prosthetics on a chair rather than around his shoulders. Andy had quickly discovered just how tiring it was for his lover to manipulate the artificial elbows and metal hooks with his severely truncated stumps.

 

Chapter 7

 

If Tim needed a drink, his mate was there with a brew. If he wanted a snack, Andy was happy to prepare a sandwich and feed it to him. There was a symbiosis between the two which allowed Tim to almost forget that he was so severely disabled. He was not ashamed to rely on his lover and Andy sought no thanks, nor praise. They had needed some provisions the previous day which meant a trip out in public. After helping Tim shower and pull on his underpants, socks and tailored shorts, Andy automatically reached for Tim’s prosthetic arms so he could slot his stumps into the sockets.

 

Tim looked at him and shook his head.

“No need mate, there’s no point in putting them on if we’re just going around Tesco.”

Andy smiled broadly. “So you’re not fussed if people see you without your arms on?”

“Well, I know there’ll be stares, but what do I care now I’ve got you to look after me?”

Andy’s stomach was churning. He loved the look of his partner in public using hooks to manipulate things, but he also held a deep fantasy to see his mate out in public with just empty sleeves. He had not previously been turned on by someone’s disability but for whatever reason he was by Tim’s bilateral amputations.

 

Tim walked over to the wardrobe and slid the door open with his short right stump. He leaned forward and slowly slid the hangers along the pole one by one. The weather was incredibly hot for a September day so he stopped at a tight-fitting tailored white shirt with short sleeves and button down collars. The seams were picked out in dark blue which exactly matched the navy blue of his shorts.

 

“This will do,” mumbled Tim as he pulled out the hanger using his teeth.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s got a tight fit across my chest and stomach which I like. I can’t wear this with my artificial arms ’cos the mechanisms are too bulky. No, this will do just fine.”

 

Andy took the hanger from his mouth and slipped the shirt across his lover’s shoulders. Tim wriggled his bare stumps into the arm holes and waited while Andy buttoned it up.

“You’re right, that looks well smart!”

“Yeah, I only wore it once before my arms were amputated and wanted to see what it looks like.”

“Good, mate, it looks good.”

Andy found himself transfixed by the way just an inch or so of stump protruded from the sleeves of each arm, and by the way Tim unselfconsciously used his stubs to point or gesticulate, or to emphasise a point in his conversation.

 

“Sunglasses?”

“Please.”

“I’ll give them a little polish.”

Andy slid the shades over his mate’s ears and they were set. Andy seamlessly filled in the gaps that Tim could not by being armless. Opening the car door, fastening the seatbelt and grabbing the shopping bags. Andy was intrigued and fascinated by the way that Tim used his stumps to point at things and, as they walked around the store, regularly placed one or other of his stumps on Andy’s shoulder as a sign of his affection.

 

They strode around the supermarket attracting a few curious looks but no one stared until Tim, looking for a jar of honey, leaned towards the cabinet and grasped it between his short stumps. There was a little gasp from an old lady who clapped her hands and strode purposefully towards the two men.

 

“My dear boy, what a joy it is to see you doing so well. Afghanistan was it? Because you’re too young for Iraq.”

She burbled on and on without taking a breath, thanking the armless man for his service in the war and for keeping us all safe. She praised the British armed forces and told Tim that he was a true hero. Tim raised his stumps to stop the woman talking. Eventually she subsided and looked a little annoyed at being interrupted. Andy could barely stifle his grin and Tim had tears streaming down his cheeks as he giggled. The woman was nonplussed as Tim eventually explained that he had lost his arms in a motorcycle accident, not on the battlefield.

 

She finally understood and started laughing.

“What a silly old fool I am. I am so sorry to have embarrassed you.”

“You didn’t at all, but you’ve made us both laugh and actually made my day!”

She smiled back and looked intently into Tim’s eyes.

“So when are you planning on putting a ring on your boyfriend’s finger?”

“As soon as he can find one big enough to slip over my stump!”

At first shocked, she giggled again.

“Honestly, you both look so happy together. I wish you the best in your future.”

 

The boys didn’t say much until they got back home. Andy put away their items and brewed a pot of coffee. As they sat sipping the warm liquid, Andy holding the mug to Tim’s lips when he nodded, they both started to speak at once.

“I wonder if…”

“No, I’m thinking that…”

They laughed, Tim nodding to Andy to proceed.

“Tim, I tell you every time we make love that I do, really love you.”

“And I tell you the same, that I love you.”

Andy blushed. “Will you marry me?”

Tim’s face lit up. “Yes!”

 

The afternoon was spent making love. For the first time, Andy entered his lover and was amazed as Tim’s orgasm exploded at the same time as his own.

“Seems we’re perfectly matched!”

 

Tim and Andy’s parents arrived home within hours of each other. Andy’s were suffering from mild jet-lag, Tim’s dad and Jenny were dusty and sweaty from their hill climb expedition.

 

Both boys bided their time, looking for a moment to raise the pressing subject of marriage. They both were looking for acceptance if not complete approval. Tim’s dad broke the ice. “Tim, did you have a good time while we were away?”

“Yes, dad. I spent the week with Andy, over at his house.”

Ron cocked his head slightly. “Oh, that was nice, anyway I’ve got some news for you.”

Jenny had her back turned emptying out a rucksack.

“I’ve asked Jenny to marry me and she’s said yes.”

 

The words hung in the air. Jenny swung around to gauge Tim’s reaction. The broad smile was enough and Tim clumsily embraced them both not caring that his prosthetics might be scratching his dad and soon-to-be step-mum.

“Well done! I am so pleased for you both and, Jenny, I promise to keep my room tidy!”

Ron looked chuffed and Jenny relieved. She liked Tim but knew that his moods fluctuated wildly since his amputations.

“I’ve got news as well.”

Ron cracked a bit of a grin, Jenny looked puzzled.

“Go on!”

Tim just blurted it out. “Andy asked me to marry him and I said yes!”

Another round of hugs ensued and a bottle of prosecco was dragged from the fridge in celebration.

 

Chapter 8

 

Across town, Andy took his father aside as his mum unpacked.

“Good holiday, dad?”

“Just perfect, son. We explored the island, ate some great food and that sun! Wow, it warmed my old bones a treat.”

“Did my little brother behave?”

“Hmm, let’s just say he’s discovered what his sixteen-year-old dick is for.”

“Oh no!”

“Yup. He thought it would be a good idea to see what it could do.”

“Nothing wrong with that, surely?”

“I guess not, but up the bum of the eighteen-year-old son, yes son, of Randall Wright who owns Steel-Enterprises over in Bristol!”

“So you mean he’s gay?”

“Yup, a bit of a shock but no worries. Your mum and me have got used to having one poof in the family and now we’ve got another one!”

 

He play-punched Andy’s shoulder and brought him into a tight hug.

“I am so proud of both my boys and I know you’ll do well. I just hope you find a partner who is ying to your yang.”

“Dad, I have and his name’s ‘Tim’. I asked him to marry me and he said yes.”

Another silent hug that went on longer than expected.

“You do know what you’re taking on son, don’t you?”

“Yeah, dad, I do, but he’s much more independent than I first thought possible and we work around the rest.”

“Better tell your mum and brother because I think there’s going to be one hell of a party to arrange.”

 

Tim was too excited and shaky to text so he hit speed dial and the loudspeaker on his phone.

“How did it go?” he asked Andy breathlessly.

“Perfect! Mum and dad are planning a big party for us.”

“My Dad and Jenny are getting married as well so it seems it’ll have to be a mega-party.” They continued chatting with Tim almost choking when Andy revealed that his little brother had come out as gay as well.

“Must be something wrong with our parents’ genes.”

“Or right, I prefer to think.”

 

It was nearly eleven in he evening when Andy was disturbed by the sound of his phone bleeping, indicating an incoming text.

“Andy, it’s Ron, Tim’s dad. Sorry to tell you he’s in hospital. A gang of youths beat him up on the way back from the shop.”

“Shit!” Andy dialled Tim and was a little relieved to hear that he wasn’t badly hurt. Just a black eye and bruising, but worse, the thugs had ripped off his prosthetic arms and run away with them.

“I’m coming, which ward?”

“It’s too late, mate, they won’t let you in. Go at seven tomorrow. He knows you’re aware and told you not to worry.”

 

Andy hardly slept. his mind was in turmoil at the thought of his lover and mate being set upon for no reason. He drove to the hospital and sat at reception until the clock ticked past seven. Tim was upright in bed, his right eye partially closed. Andy raced into the room and caught his mate in a tight embrace which he relinquished when Tim let out a yelp.

“Sorry! What did those bastards do to you?”

“I was walking back home with milk and a few chocolates when one of them confronted me. He called me all kinds of horrible names so I just carried on, trying to ignore him. The next thing I was on the ground and a couple more lads came out of the shadows. One slit my shirt open and the other kept tugging on my arms.”

“What bastards!”

“Yes. I couldn’t fight back. Next thing they roll me onto my stomach, my arms are yanked off and they go running into the night leaving me on the ground. Why they wanted my arms I’ve no idea”

“Tim, I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you.”

“Andy, you can’t look after me all the time. They’re just nasty little creeps who thought they’d have fun taunting a helpless cripple.”

“Don’t say that! You’re no cripple.”

“Well, to them I am.”

 

Andy hugged his lover a little more cautiously and put his arms around him, comforting his stumps which has been lightly bruised by the assault.

“We’re going to have to get you a new pair of arms,” stated Andy with determination. “Until they’re ready I want you to come and stay with me.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine at home.”

“Yeah, but your dad’s out all day, as is Jenny. I’m mainly revising at home and if I have to go to a class mum or my brother will be there.”

“You are so kind. I knew from the start that we were right for each other.”

Andy smiled and fondled Tim’s left stump. He knew just how much that little show of intimacy reassured his lover.

 

Chapter 9

 

Contrary to the expectations of Ron and Andy, Tim quickly bounced back from his traumatic assault. CCTV had captured the whole event and they rather enjoyed the spectacle of the three hooligans being paraded in front of the judge to receive their punishment. All three were sentenced to eighteen months youth custody for their callous crime. The judge made it clear that there was no place in society for people who saw disability as something to make fun of.

 

The prosecution had been able to prove, that not only was this a hate crime against a disabled man, but that it was also motivated by homophobia. Tim had never concealed his relationship with Andy and the guys spat out their hatred of ‘poofs’ and ‘queers’ under questioning. The assault had been all over the local news and Tim had been surprised and humbled when he received an update from his ‘Just Giving’ page which confirmed that a further eighteen thousand pounds had been paid to him by well-wishers.

 

Tim’s new employers were completely understanding, horrified that he’d been abused in such a terrible manner. He was given paid leave of absence to recuperate and time to have a new pair of artificial arms made. Tim felt so guilty. He had just got his ‘feet under the desk’ and was working with his first patients, but everything would have to be placed on hold until he was functioning again with new prosthetics.

 

“Tim, there’s a letter for you.”

“Thanks dad, who’s it from?”

“I don’t know. Want me to open it?”

The young amputee was only just out of bed and wandered into the kitchen in sleeping shorts, with no top. None of the family gave him a second look. To them Tim with short stumps hanging from his shoulders was the norm.

“Take a look.”

Tim read out loud:

 

Dear Tim,

 

I represent Stylus media relations and we’ve been approached by several clients who would like to talk to you about your recent experiences. They believe that the story you have to tell is of interest to the wider population and that it would reinforce positive images of being gay and disabled.

 

You will no doubt understand that the parties interested in you are prepared to pay for an exclusive interview. This means that there will be competition between them so you could expect a substantial financial payment.

 

Please consider the foregoing and come back to me even if you decide you are not interested.

 

In closing, may I advise you to be wary of people approaching you in the street for interviews. they will be trying to obtain your story without having to pay for it.

 

Yours sincerely

 

Rebecca Pike

 

“Hmm. What do you think dad?”

“If you go ahead with it you’ll be famous for what, all of ten minutes as the press will devour you and then just move on to the next victim”

“Cynic!”

“Yes, I guess I am, but on the other hand if they came up with the dosh, think what that might do for you and Andy.”

“True, I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Do you want me to come to the limb fitting centre with you?”

“Yeah, that would be great. It can be mightily boring there on my own.”

“I’ll bring my knitting.”

“Oh shut up, you twit!”

The boys’ relationship was full of fun and banter. Tim took the digs from Andy about being ‘armless enough’ in good measure, Tim reciprocated equally calling him ‘peanut cock’ since his foreskin had been removed and he was now happily circumcised like his best mate. They were like brothers but lovers as well.

 

The night Tim had taken Andy’s virgin arsehole was magical for them both. They were as one, bodies intertwined, lips locked and cocks stimulated to the highest possible level. Tim’s short arm stumps had now become an integral part of their sex play and both were sated, but not for long. They were very much in love and had no intention of ever being parted.

 

Contrary to Tim’s fears, the old prosthetist had retired and had been replaced by a guy fresh out of college. Warren was barely older than himself and full of new ideas. Although the NHS budget was limited, Tim was due a higher allowance, all down to the severity of his crippling. If he had just lost a hand, he would be due not much more than two thousand pounds. With both arms gone above the elbow, the prosthetist had nineteen thousand to spend.

 

“Have you ever thought about powered limbs?”

“I’ve seen some stuff on YouTube but are they worth the hassle?”

“Some say they are, but I agree, the technology is still pretty basic.”

“I’d be worried that if a fuse blew or the batteries ran out of juice, I’d be stranded.”

Warren smiled. “There is that to take into consideration.”

 

“Tim, what do you want to achieve?”

Andy looked on expectantly. “If you could remake my old arms, but let’s say lighter by twenty percent I think that would do. I really don’t want to rely on something electric that could break down at any moment, and the weight of my first set of limbs is really quite a chore to carry around all day.”

Andy interjected. “I’ve noticed that Tim is using them less and less, not that it’s a problem, but it’s a sign they’re really too cumbersome.”

 

Warren disappeared from the consulting room and returned with a set of electric weighing scales and three identically sized pieces of material. Both boys were somewhat puzzled. Warren explained. “This is glass fibre. Your old arms were made of this stuff. Look!”

The piece weighed two hundred grams.

“This is carbon fibre.”

 The identically sized piece weighed a hundred and ten grams.

“Now the space age stuff. Kevlar!”

With a dramatic gesture, Warren dropped the strangely shiny black sheet on the scales.

“Seventy-five grams! If we make up your new arms with this stuff, substitute the steel fixings and hinges with aluminium, use light-weight webbing and shorten the forearms by five centimetres, I think you’ll really notice the difference.”

 

Andy was beaming. He had no fears of looking after Tim when he chose to go without his arms but he did realise what an effort it was for him to lug around nearly twelve kilograms of plastic and steel across his shoulders day in and day out. The new hi-tech arms would weigh less than a third of his old prosthetics.

 

Tim looked contemplative. “Why shorten my forearms?”

Warren smiled. “I looked at the measurements of your first set of limbs and realised that the old fella had made a mistake. If, for example, you lose one arm, it’s quite normal for the prosthetist to make the replacement the same length. I mean, you want the false arm to meet the good arm and not to look lop-sided.”

Tim nodded so Warren continued. “When you lose both arms the key thing for us to achieve is a clean arc so you can reach your mouth.”

Tim started to smile.

“What you were doing with the old arms was having to strain forward to meet the hook as you raised it. With shorter forearms, you’ll find you won’t be leaning in so far, if at all.”

“Wow! That makes so much sense!” shouted Andy. “I always thought it looked so unnatural before.”

Warren smiled, pleased that he had won over the young amputee and his friend.

“I’ll then add another little twist. Instead of the forearms being straight, I’ll put a slight curved radius in them so they are that bit closer to your torso. I’m sure you’ll notice the difference.”

Tim sat back, smiling. Here for once was a member of the NHS who knew what he was talking about. The old boy had been kind, but was stuck in the past. Warren was the real deal.

“Now Tim, let’s get you measured up.”

 

Chapter 10

 

The limbs would take two weeks to fabricate and then there would be a period of adjustment and learning to master their unique features. Andy had re-taken his exams and was awaiting results. The boys spent every minute together, their love growing in breadth and width.

 

Tim took to popping into the rehabilitation unit daily. He wanted to retain his connection with the team and follow-up on the three patients who had been allocated to him. He surprised everyone by using his feet for many tasks. He could type, fill a glass from a jug and even push the book and magazine trolley around, just as long as his patient was fit enough to take the item they wanted from the shelves.

 

“Tim, I’m so pleased that you’re making the effort.”

Dr Wiles encircled Tim’s shoulder with his arm and gave him an encouraging hug.

“You’ve been through the wars, I can tell, but I like your perseverance, your dedication.”

“It’s nothing really, Dr Wiles. Since I found a partner and fell in love, he’s given me so much more confidence. I no longer care what people think or do when they see me armless.”

Both laughed. “You’ll make a fine husband one day and, I reckon, a fabulous father!”

Tim and Andy had never got to that subject. They were too wound up in themselves to think about adopting kids but the thought lingered in Tim’s mind.

 

The days passed slowly for Tim as he waited for his new prosthetic arms to be built. He was called back to the clinic by Warren to have the stump sockets checked for fit and finish, but after a few minor alterations they felt comfortable – well, as comfortable as they could be. His six-inch stumps buried up to his armpits in a tight fitting tubular chamber was a sensation he had got used to but never enjoyed.

 

“Thanks Jenny. I really appreciate you taking the time to feed me. Once the arms are made you’ll be free of the task and I’ll feed you if you like!”

She smiled. She had grown to like Tim and her affection for him grew daily. He never complained about his situation, he always thought of others and he was so supportive of her relationship with his father.

“Don’t be silly. I’m delighted to be able to do it for you. It reminds me a little of when I used to spoon-feed Rex!”

 

The image floated into her mind and she fell silent thinking of her only son, somewhere in Afghanistan, and her long-deceased husband, killed by a mortar attack during the Iraq-Iran conflict. They’d been so much in love and the fruit of their marriage had been Rex, the spitting image of his father and now serving in the army. She had tried to dissuade him from joining up but Rex was determined and head-strong so she had to let him go.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ron asked.

“Just wondering how Rex is getting along.”

Ron stepped over to where Jenny sat and put his arm around her.

“He’s on leave in a couple of weeks, isn’t he?”

“Yes, in fact the day after Tim gets to pick up his new arms.”

“That’s good timing. It’ll be the first time Tim and I will get to meet him so I know my son will want to appear as normal as he can.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, love. Rex has two mates who’ve lost limbs. He’s planning to see them while he’s back in the UK.”

 

Autumn was gathering pace and the nights drawing in. For Tim, this was a good time of year. After his amputations, he became aware that he was always warm and that hot weather made him sweat profusely. When he raised the subject with the surgeon who’d performed the amputations, the reason became clear. He had lost twenty percent of his skin and that skin allowed him to cool down. Once it was gone, his temperature would always be half a degree warmer than before. This set him some challenges. Shorts allowed his legs to lose heat and skimpy tops allowed his torso to do the same. The only issue was that wearing light clothing served to reveal his prosthetics to all who cared to stare. He had got used to the pitying looks he received but after pairing up with Andy, the angst he felt slowly diminished.

 

Chapter 11

 

“What on earth?” Tim awoke to loud knocking on the front door. It was one thirty in the morning so it must be urgent. Lights flickered on throughout the house and Tim followed Jenny and his dad down the stairs.

 

“Mrs Jenny Fortune?”

“Yes, what is it?” She struggled to fasten her dressing gown, her fingers numb with fear. “May we come inside?” Ron checked the proffered ID and seeing that the two men were wearing army uniform it seemed safe enough to let them in.

 

Tim lingered at the threshold of the living room. His presence not acknowledged by the army officers.

 

“I’m Sergeant Cummings and this is Captain Stroud. Rex’s commanding officer.”

Ron nodded, pulling Jenny into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry to be calling in so early in the morning but we have some difficult news.”

 

Jenny screwed her eyes closed and a tear started to form. The captain cleared his throat. “Rex was on night patrol yesterday and unfortunately triggered a concealed IED in an irrigation channel.” He paused to let the news sink in. “He was taken immediately to the Bagram treatment centre and is currently on a flight which will land in Birmingham at six this morning.”

 

Another pause. Ron spoke. “So he’s alive?”

“Yes he is. According to the report we received as he was being boarded on the hospital plane.”

“Do you know if he’s still OK?”

“The co-pilot sends us an hourly bulletin on the condition of the troops they are transporting. so far he reports that Rex is alive and fighting.”

“Fighting?”

“Yes, he is a tough kid and keeps asking for his mum.”

 

Jenny looked up, her eyes red and watery. “My son, my beautiful son.”

Ron hugged her again and Tim thought this was the time to join the group. Ron looked up and said “Oh, this is my son Tim.” The two soldiers looked on puzzled. seeing the armless boy’s body illuminated from the hall-light.

“Were you in the forces son?” asked the captain.

“No, sir, I had a motorcycle accident two years ago.”

The captain nodded and turned back towards Jenny.

“The information we have so far in that Rex has suffered injuries to both lower limbs, his legs, I should say. We have no information as to the extent of these injuries but, in my experience of these matters I would advise you to prepare yourself for the worst. IED’s are terrible things. The Taliban fill them with nuts and bolts and often faeces to inflict the maximum damage.”

“Now, we have a car waiting outside to take you to Queen Elizabeth hospital in Birmingham. If we set off now, you’ll be there in time to see him. Assuming the surgeons are happy for you to do so.”

“Jenny, let’s get a few things together. Tim! Go grab the suiter and overnight case, will you?” “Of course, dad.”

Ron wanted Tim out the way before he asked the big question.

“Do you think he is going to live?”

 The captain smiled wearily. “I’ve lost 8 of my men to IED’s, sadly.”

The sergeant looked at his boots. “But I’ve also brought back another twenty-five who survived, albeit with what are now called ‘life-changing injuries’.”

“You mean amputations?”

“Yes, amputations.”

 

The sergeant spoke up. “So Tim and Rex are brothers?”

“No, not exactly. but they’re going to become step-brothers shortly as Jenny and I are getting married – second time around, as you most probably guessed.”

“Well, congratulations to you both. I guess I needn’t say that having an amputee as a son you’ll already know the ups and downs and pitfalls.”

Ron smiled. “Yes, we do and Tim being an amputee has taken nothing away from him or the family. In fact, I think it’s true to say that we’re closer because of it.”

The captain nodded. “If Rex has lost one or both legs, having Tim around will be a great help. Not at first perhaps, but as Rex recovers having a role-model in the family will be invaluable as will you, being used to the life of an amputee.”

Jenny piped up. “Perhaps they’ll be able to mend his legs?” she asked hopefully. Images of Rex running the full length of a rugby pitch to put down a try only six months ago. No one responded, fearing the worse.

 

The captain stood up. “I think you should pack your things. We can talk further during the drive.”

Ron and Jenny disappeared upstairs while Tim hovered around.

“Do either of you want a drink?”

The Sergeant glanced at the Captain.

“Yes, that would be great. Just some water please.”

 

They followed the armless boy silently into the kitchen where he flicked on the overhead light with his chin. They stood, somewhat in shock, as they watched Tim open a cupboard with his left foot and pull out a half pint mug with the handle clenched between his toes. He positioned the mug on the draining board, flipped the tap lever to let the water run cold and swivelled the tap until it filled the mug. He repeated the exercise with the other mug and conveyed the mugs to the astonished soldiers in the grasp of his left foot who took their water with a mumbled acknowledgement.

 

Tim didn’t often ‘show off’ but on this occasion, he thought it might be a good idea, a good idea to show that he could well be of great use to Rex if he had, or was about to become, a part of the exclusive amputee community.

 

Chapter 12

 

Tim was alone now. His father and soon-to-be step-mother were speeding along in the back of a black Range Rover. He had no idea how Jenny was feeling but he was sure that his father’s experience of him losing his arms would stand them both in good stead. It was too early to get up and not fair to text Andy while he was sleeping, so he got back into bed and drifted off. Images of his lover’s face contorted as Tim fucked him with vigour.

 

Picking up an extended pointing stick in his mouth, Tim tapped out a text to Andy just before seven. Andy was due to take him to the limb-fitting centre for a nine o’clock clinic with Warren but he wanted to forewarn him of the news about Rex. Andy was full of sympathy. mainly for Jenny who he was getting to know better. He had never met Rex so felt little other than a certain empathy for the plight he was now facing.

 

As they drove to Tim’s appointment, Tim explained what the soldiers had said.

“An IED has damaged both his legs but they don’t know how badly.”

Andy nodded. “When does he arrive in the UK?”

“They said six this morning and that Jenny could only see him if the surgeon agreed.”

“Oh great, so they’re going to be sitting there on tenterhooks for hours.”

“Looks like it.”

“Was it the same for your dad after your accident?”

 Tim turned to look at his boyfriend. “You are so lovely, Andy. Fancy thinking about something like that.”

Andy smiled.

“Not really. I came off the bike because I was showing off. It happened at the end of our road, on that sharp downhill bend.”

“I know the one.”

“I was awake all the way through until they put me out with a shot, but dad had heard the commotion and sirens and came jogging down the road to see what was what.”

“Ah, I see”

 

Tim hesitated a little, not enjoying the memory but wanting to be honest with his lover.

“I came off the bike and it slid on its side heading towards me. I put my arms up to protect myself and the handle bars pinned my arms against the barrier. I was trapped by my arms.”

 

“Jesus, Tim, how horrible!”

The amputee continued.

“I lay there is a daze when two blokes came over and lifted the bike off me and my arms.” He faltered a little. “My arms just fell to my side and I could see that both elbows were just mush. nothing other than bone splinters and torn flesh. Dad appeared and did not panic once. He asked the two guys to take off their waist belts. He then calmly tied them as tourniquets above my mashed-up elbows to stop the bleeding. The surgeon said that his actions saved my life.”

 

“We’re here, tell me more later.”

Andy leant across, unbuckled Tim’s seat belt and planted a wet and sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Ugh, you beast!”

Andy felt a twinge in his groin as he watched his amputee lover wipe off the wet kiss with his short stump.

 

It was past midday and there had been no news other than a friendly nurse stating that Rex was in the operating theatre and as soon as he was out the surgeon would come to talk to them.

 

Chapter 13

 

“Mrs Fortune?”

“Yes. Jenny, please call me Jenny and this is my fiancé Ron.”

“My name is George Macintosh. I’ve just come from the operating theatre where we worked on your son, Rex.”

The white coated man, tall and willowy, with a Scottish accent beckoned them to a side room. “Have they been looking after you? Do you need any tea?”

His kind voice and concern for their well-being was touching. Ron spoke.

“They’ve been very kind, even brought up bacon butties.”

The surgeon smiled. “Yes, they are all hand-picked for the job. We need forces people to look after the injured soldiers. They have a special kind of bond, you know.”

 

“Can you tell me about my son?”

“Yes, of course. If I use any terms you do not understand stop me and I will try and explain in more detail.”

Ron and Jenny nodded, but because they already had Tim and knew about amputation as a disability they were confident they would be OK.

“Rex stood on an IED. I’m sure you know what these dirty bombs are intended to achieve.” Both nodded.

“In short, they are designed to send a column of sharp and often dirty items upwards towards the body of whoever is unfortunate enough to stand on one.”

“All the soldiers now wear full body armour, helmets, visors and special padding to protect their genitals. Many survive intact, perhaps with some burns, concussion and maybe a broken bone or two. Others are not so lucky.”

“You mean my Rex?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do. The people who make the IED’s are occasionally expert, more often amateur. Sometimes they use too little explosive and sometimes too much. Some IED’s can weigh little more than five hundred grams, others are three kilograms and those inflict the most damage. We cannot be certain of the size of the IED your Rex stepped on, but it was certainly quite a large one.”

 

Jenny was no longer crying. She set her face, she wanted facts. Ron held her hand, squeezing it on occasion as reassurance.

 

“So, in short, Rex has lost both of his legs.”

The surgeon waited for the news to sink in. Jenny nodded, Ron squeezed. The surgeon continued.

“Our protocols when dealing with blast injuries such as suffered by Rex are threefold. Firstly, we want to save life, using every possible means. Secondly, repeated surgery shocks the system, causes distress and opens them up to infection, so we like to operate once or possibly twice. Our third objective is to use all our collective skills to provide the patient with the best possible opportunity to use prosthetic limbs when they enter the rehabilitation stage.”

 

Ron spoke for the first time. “Thank you for letting us know. We’re both reassured that you are doing everything possible for Rex. Now, this may sound strange, but my own son, Tim, is a bilateral amputee. He lost both arms above the elbows in a motorbike accident two years ago.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” replied the surgeon.

“No need to be. He functions very well with quite basic prosthetic arms but one thing I soon learnt from his prosthetist was that the length of the residual limb, or stump, if you will, is all important.”

“Exactly right. You know a great deal and that will be invaluable to Rex. Tim is, or will be his step-brother?”

“Yes.”

“That will help him enormously through his recovery. So, let’s get onto limb-length as you have asked. To be frank, I was not able to save very much of his legs at all. The femurs were shattered almost up to the pelvis. So, he has about ten centimetres of residual limb on each side.”

“Enough for prosthetic legs?”

“I honestly doubt it. There’s no point trying to comfort you and then you find I have misled you. Even for a determined army-honed young man, the effort to walk with so little leverage from such short stumps is too much. People with similar amputations to Rex nearly always revert to wheelchair use.”

Jenny nodded, she was not surprised, but she could not imagine how Rex, at twenty-three, was going to take such news.

Ron, always after facts, pressed on.

“Any other injuries we should know about?”

“Happily, nothing significant. Slight concussion, a few scratches to his chin, but they will heal, bruising, of course, and expect some temporary deafness but that usually passes as well.”

“A bit indelicate, this,” said Ron. “But his genitals?”

Jenny grimaced.

“Fine, all fine. It’s the second thing a soldier asks when he wakes up. What have I lost and have I still got my wedding tackle?”

The sound of the surgeon saying this in mock cockney deflated the tension in the room and they all let out a sigh and a bit of a giggle.

“Now, Rex is in intensive care and will remain in an induced coma for, we reckon three or four days, just to let his body settle down and the healing to commence. I will take you to see him but then I suggest you go home and keep in touch with the liaison officer who will keep you updated.”

 

Chapter 14

 

“Excited?”

 Tim nodded, pleased that Andy had his arm around his shoulder as they walked to the limb fitting room. Warren was fussing about, looking flustered but somehow in charge.

“Guys, good to see you. Guess what the police brought in yesterday.”

The boys just shrugged, wondering what on earth he was talking about. Without speaking, Warren pulled back a curtain and there they were. Tim’s old prosthetic arms sitting haphazardly on a chair.

“Oh my god. Where did they find them?”

“In the loft of one of the thugs’ home. Seems his mum had gone up to get out a suitcase and there they were, unharmed.”

“Well, I won’t be needing them!”

 “Hold on!” said Warren. “I suggest you stash them somewhere, you know, just in case anything like this happens again,” referring to the incident that deprived the amputee of functioning prosthetics for nearly three weeks.

“I’ll put them in our garage Tim, if that’s OK.”

“Good idea.”

 

Tim did a little jig as Warren came forward with the newly crafted prosthetic arms. The first thing that struck the young amputee was the colour of the Kevlar. Jet black with a lustrous sheen. The second was the daintiness of the hinges, brackets and bracing. All in highly polished aluminium. The hooks were also different. Less bulky and differently formed to his original split claws.

 

“I’ve also had a bespoke stand made so you should, with a bit of practice, be able to put them on and take them off without any assistance.”

Tim nodded appreciatively.

“Righto, pull these on to your stubs, will you?”

Warren held out a new stump sock which Tim took in his mouth. He worked the blunt end of his right stump into the stretchy cloth cylinder using his teeth to pull it tight. Repeating with the left stump, he waggled his little stubs around like a child, excited by the anticipation of opening a birthday present.

 

“OK, if you back up to the stand you should be able to slot your stumps into the sockets. Try it!”

 Tim did as he was told and found the height of the stand perfect. The sockets were tighter than before so he had to push determinedly with his shoulders to get his stumps all the way in. Happy that he had succeeded, he looked over to Warren for his next instruction.

“So, all you need to do now is lift up on your toes and the prosthetics should unhook from the stand.”

 

Tim followed the procedure, shrugging a little to make sure the harnesses across his shoulders and back were in place.

“Oh my god, they’re so light!” exclaimed the armless boy.

“Yes, I weighed your old arms. Almost exactly twelve kilos. These are three and a half and I reckon we could shave a bit more off still.”

 

“How do they feel, Tim?”

Andy was captivated by the image of his lover once again wearing prosthetic limbs. “Absolutely amazing. I just can’t tell you the difference.”

“So, why don’t you try a few moves? The same rules apply as before.”

Tim shrugged his shoulders and both forearms lifted at the same time.

“Gosh! That takes so little effort!”

“Now lock the elbows and bring your left hook up to your face.”

Tim followed instructions and was flabbergasted by the fact that his hook followed an arc that perfectly reached his lips.

“Wow, wow, wow!” he exclaimed. “It’s almost like I have my own arms back!”

He did another little jig around the limb fitting room, dancing like a dervish.

“Let’s see how you are with the hooks.”

Tim manoeuvred his shoulder once again opening and closing the hooks smoothly.

“I think the right one needs the cable shortening a touch.”

Warren got out pliers and an Allen key. With the adjustment made, all worked as it should.

“So what I want you to do is get used to them over the weekend and then pop back to see me on Monday. If there’s any chafing or if something doesn’t work just as you want we can make the necessary changes.”

 

The boys left the clinic in a high state of excitement. Tim empowered with new, more efficient limbs and, they both realised, a more functional life ahead of them both.

 

Out of habit Andy went for the passenger door handle.

“Hold on, let me try.”

Andy stood back observing his partner closely. With a little effort, Tim was able to grasp the handle in his hook and trigger the latch. He was in! With a grunt and a little contortion, he reached around his torso, grasped the seat belt buckle and slotted it home in the bracket by the handbrake.

“I never thought I’d ever do that again!”

“Well done, Tim. I’m so pleased for you.”

 

Their high spirits did not last long. A text from Ron explained in brief the situation up in Birmingham.

“I know neither of us have met Rex, but just looking at his Facebook page and the videos of him weight-lifting and playing rugby makes me shudder to think he’s got practically no legs left at all.”

“Poor bloke, do you think we can help him?”

“Hmm. Army lad, macho bloke and two old poofs, one soon to be his armless step-brother and the other his brother in law?”

“Well, we have to try for Jenny’s sake.”

 

Chapter 15

 

Jenny and Ron sat either side of Rex in the ICU. His body was swathed in apparatus, tubes and monitors. Jenny touched his forehead and then took his limp hand in her own. It was like looking at her husband. The cropped blond hair, plush lips, broken nose and under his closed eyelids, sparkling blue eyes. She tried not to look below his midriff but her eyes kept straying to the point, just below his groin, where his body stopped abruptly.

 

“We have to be strong and positive for him when he wakes up. You know when Tim found out that he’s lost both arms there were lots of tears, lots of crying, but we made a pact to work on his recovery together, never to give up and always to be positive.”

Jenny nodded.

“I have to admit I used a bit of psychology on Tim. I kept reminding him that his mother would have been proud of what he’d achieved and that she would want to see him up and back to a normal life. Maybe you can do the same for Rex?”

Jenny smiled, weary and exhausted.

“You’re right. He always wanted to please his father as a kid, always wanted to make him proud even if it was just his first hand-stand, or riding his bike without stabilisers. Maybe I can invoke the memory of his dad to help him through his recovery.

 

Ralph and Susie had arranged for the two families to meet for lunch at their house on the Sunday. Tim had been using his new arms proficiently since they were fitted on Friday and Rex was still in an induced coma. The doctors advised Jenny that they were planning to bring him back to consciousness on Wednesday. A car would be sent for them Tuesday night.

 

“I don’t often make speeches,” said Ron with a grunt, the other family members groaning knowing that Ron loved to make speeches.

“But, I think a few words are appropriate today. Our two families have been brought together by the love between my son Tim and your boy Andy. They have proven to themselves and to us that love can conquer anything. Our two sons have told us that they are gay. We are proud of them both. My son has proven his love to Andy and the rest of us. We are a new family now, a larger family, a coherent and caring family looking out for each other.”

 

Ron paused, Jenny sniffed and Susie blew her nose.

“Now, we are facing the biggest challenge of all, and I want us all to make the best possible effort to bring Rex into the circle, to cherish him, teach him, love him and help rebuild his shattered life. We have the knowledge, the intelligence and the motivation to do so. We need to help him find purpose, direction and normality.”

Everyone around the table tapped their glass with a knife, or in Tim’s case with his hook.

“Well said, dad.”

“Here, here!” followed Ralph.

 

“Jenny, Ron, good to see you!”

“And you as well, Dr Macintosh.”

“George. Please call me George.”

“OK, thank you.”

“He woke up more quickly than we thought. He’s asking for you, Jenny”

The woman blanched and stuttered.

“What has he said?”

“Let him tell you himself.”

“I’ll stay here, love. Call me if you need me.”

 

George led Rex’s mum by the shoulder into a single room. Rex lay still, his eyes closed. She was pleased to see that he was breathing on his own and that he only had a drip in his arm and what she supposed was a catheter and urine collection bag attached to his body, hanging from the bed frame.

 

He stirred as her shadow passed across his face.

“Mum?”

“Yes darling, I’m here.”

He grimaced, opening his eyes slightly against the harsh ceiling lamp.

“I’ll turn that off, love.”

“Thanks mum.”

The room became darker, lit only by a lamp on the bedside table.

“Mum, I’m sorry. I’ve really fucked things up.”

Jenny stroked his cheek and took his hand in her own. He squeezed it tightly, holding on as she sat at his side.

“You have done no such thing. You went to war to serve your country. Your father would have been so proud of you, just as I am.”

“But mum, I’ve got no legs.”

“True, but the rest of you is OK. I’m OK and we’ll get you well and out of here. There’s plenty you can do without legs.”

Rex relaxed and his eyes fluttered as he sank back into sleep. Jenny remained by his side and watched as his face twitched. No doubt some dream or nightmare filling his still‑drugged mind. Thirty minutes later his eyes flicked open and he appeared disorientated.

“Mum, Mum!”

“I’m here. Just relax and I’ll tell you some of my news.”

 

Jenny explained how she’d fallen in love with Ron and that Ron had a son called Tim who had no arms and that Tim was going to marry Andy and that all was OK at home and there was plenty of space for him at the much larger house Ron and Jenny had bought together in anticipation of their forthcoming marriage. She burbled on, unable to stop, hoping that her news would make him happy, that she was, herself, happy.

 

“Mum, there’s a control over there. Just press it a little and the head of my bed will rise up.”

Jenny heard a whir as the bed moved, her son’s head now nearly level with her own. He smiled, looked a little stronger. His deep blue eyes sparkled as he digested the information she had just spurted out.

“Let me get this right,” he said. “I’m going to acquire a step-dad, step-brother and brother-in-law all at once?”

Jenny nodded.

“Ha, an instant family!”

“Well, you’ll need to get to know them first.”

“Mum, if you like them, I’m certain to. Mum, this bloke Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Did I hear you right? He’s got no arms?”

“That’s right. Both were amputated close to the shoulders after a motorbike accident.”

“Wow, poor bugger.”

“He does OK with prosthetic arms and, of course, with the help of his fiancé Andy.”

Rex closed his eyes again, thinking.

“Mum, are they, well, poofy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, camp, effeminate?”

“I don’t think so at all. Andy plays for Salisbury football club in the first team and Tim did gymnastics but now he’s a good kick-boxer.”

“What, with no arms?” “

You want to see him before you scoff, love. Yes, they both like to wear nice clothes and look after their hair, but don’t all young men?”

 

He did not reply immediately, letting all the information percolate through his brain.

“Mum, what would dad and you think if I told you that, er, I might be gay?”

 Jenny didn’t hesitate. “He and I would be proud of you, so very proud of you.”

Her head was spinning. Here was her cruelly amputated son professing to be gay.

“Mum, I think I need to go back to sleep, but before you go I want you to take a look.”

Jenny grimaced internally.

“OK son.”

Rex pushed the bed covers from his chest, over his abdomen until they cleared his groin. Rather than being terribly shocked, Jenny just looked down at the extremely short stubs that protruded either side of her son’s pelvis. They were little more than bumps, really.

“Rex, yes, they’re gone, but your dad would have an answer, wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah, ‘onwards and upwards’.”

“Exactly.”

She left her son to sleep and made her way out to Ron who could hardly believe what she told him.

“I think it best if we said nothing about the gay thing to the rest of the family. Let Rex tell them when he’s good and ready.”

Jenny nodded. She was still not sure if Rex was imagining all this due to the drugs that were coursing through his veins, or whether he truly was homosexual.

 

Chapter 16

 

Andy climbed off his boyfriend, cock dripping from yet another highly satisfying bout of love‑making. He asked Tim to keep his new arms on as they made love and squealed as Tim used his hooks to fondle his lover’s balls and to clamp down on his nipples. Both boys orgasmed simultaneously as the friction of their love-making came to fruition.

 

Later that day an envelope arrived. It contained the results of Andy’s A-level re-sit examinations.

“I fucked up again.”

“Let me see. E, E, U.”

Andy grabbed his lover in a big hug. “I’m so sorry, I had such plans for us when I became someone famous with a mega-paying job.”

“You’re famous to me, and who says you can’t get a good job?”

 “Dad will be so angry.”

“I doubt it. He loves you for what you are, not a scrap of paper.”

 

Tim was now able to go back to his job and excelled in his responsibilities. Andy, after much self-doubt, took up a full-time position at the local gym and went on courses to become a personal trainer. He had never been fitter and, for whatever reason, he found his schedule crammed with private clients, all willing to pay him forty-five pounds per hour for his skills in coaching the fat to become thin and sports men and women to become fitter, sharper and more focussed. He was too modest to realise that most of his female clients fancied him, as did many of his male gym mates.

 

Then something unexpected happened. The gym owner, or the guy who owned the lease to the building, disappeared. Nothing was heard until a few days later. He’d been arrested and charged with importing and handling illegal steroids and, worse, cocaine and a whole host of other banned substances. Having explained the situation to his father Andy said “I bet I could do a really good job turning that gym around.”

Ralph looked at his son, raising his eyes from his I-Pad.

“Do you reckon so?”

“Yeah. What it needs is a programme to suit everyone, not just the muscle-boys.”

“Go on,” encouraged his father.

“It needs a crèche for mums so they can work out during the day when the gym’s quiet. It needs classes to suit older people and kick-boxing lessons, Pilates, you name it. I could do it!”

“Have you ever written a business plan?”

Andy looked up, questioningly.

“Not really. Why?”

“What if I said I’d be willing to help you set up the gym as you want with you as the owner?”

“What, really?”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be on a proper business basis. You’ll have to do the books, arrange the marketing, everything, in fact.”

“Dad, you’re just great. I couldn’t wish for a better father!”

“I’ll talk to your mum and you better discuss it with Tim.”

 

Chapter 17

 

“Ouch!”

“That’s the last of them Rex. No more stitches.”

The young soldier amputee looked down at the stumps of his legs. They didn’t shock him anymore. He’s seen plenty of the other guys on the ward and was secretly grateful that he had only lost his legs. Others had been blinded, deafened, castrated. He was one of the lucky ones and had avoided infection or further complications.

 

Dr Macintosh arrived for his daily visit.

“Ah Rex, they are looking good, completely healed I’m delighted to say.”

Slipping on a pair of surgical gloves, the surgeon examined Rex’s stumps minutely.

“I’m very happy with these you know. The scars are symmetrical and there’s no swelling at all.”

“Thanks for all you’ve done, Doc.”

“I won’t say it’s a pleasure. Amputating a young man’s legs is not something I’d ever choose to do, but you’re now as good as I can get you in a surgical sense. We now need to plan the next steps, so to speak.”

 

Rex had re-gained his bullish and forthright manner now he was drug-free, bar a few special tablets if he suffered phantom pain. He reflected on his situation and that his stubs felt like any other part of his body. There was no additional pain just a feeling of normality which he was grateful for. The scars tickled if he ran a finger across them but, here he was at twenty-three, legless and resigned to the fact.

 

He had been deeply upset by the reaction of some of his fellow-amputee soldiers who moaned and groaned all the time. There were guys who spoke of suicide, topping themselves and swallowing pills to end it all. Rex thought that so selfish, so cruel to the members of that soldier’s family. He could not imagine putting his mum through more pain after her husband, his dad, had been killed in Iraq.

 

Rex was a guy who got on with things, who made the extra effort and who, as he quietly said to himself, needed to find out whether he was gay or whether it was just a silly thought. He wanted love but he could not imagine that anyone would want him, legless and wheelchair bound. His fears were partially laid to rest by two contacts which followed on soon after his mother’s last visit.

 

“Darling, let me introduce you to Ron.”

Rex was covered in a light film of perspiration. He’d just spent two hours in the hospital gym and was working himself hard. Ron opened his arms and took the seated boy into a broad hug.

“Glad to meet you, son. I’m so pleased you’re getting on so well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No need for formalities. Just call me Ron.”

“OK, thanks.”

“I owe you a bit of an apology.”

“Why on earth, Ron?”

“I should have asked your permission to propose to your mum.”

Rex looked puzzled.

“There’s no need for that.”

“Well, I think there was. You are the main man in her life and I don’t want to upset or alienate you. Instead I want us to be a family together just as my son Tim and his fiancé Andy have become part of our family and vice versa.”

The young amputee smiled broadly.

“You know, my mum doesn’t stop talking about you.”

Ron blushed.

“I have never seen her so happy Ron, and you’re the cause.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. Very kind of you to put it into words.”

“Well, you’ve got a firm promise from me to do all I can to make my new family work out as it should. Now I’m er, an amputee and set to use this chair for a while, I think I might need the support of the family.”

“You’ve got it from me and I know you’ll get it from Andy and Tim.”

 

The two men then spent the next hour talking about their lives, hopes and dreams. Rex didn’t mention the fact that he might be gay, but his enquiries into the relationship between the arm amputee and his lover were pertinent and detailed.

 

The next day Rex received a face call on his mobile.

“Rex, hi, this is Tim, Ron’s son.”

His voice sounded nervous, almost as though he was frightened he’d be rebuffed. Rex took in the image of the young man staring back at him. His mechanical arms looked awesome to Rex and he secretly marvelled at how proficient he was at using them.

“Mate, so I hear we’re going to be brothers.”

Tim let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I guess so, maybe ‘brothers in arms’?”

“Good joke, mate. I’m legless and I haven’t even had a beer yet!”

The ice had been broken and contrary to Tim’s fears, the ‘soldier boy’ was an easy-going lad, seemingly at one with his severe disability and happy to be getting to know the man at the other end of the line. Their chat lasted for thirty minutes and a promise was made for Tim and Andy to visit at the weekend. Rex explained that Saturdays and Sundays were so boring but he would soon be transferred to the rehabilitation unit in Surrey.

 

“Doc, I’ve met with the physio and two of the false-leg men already.”

Macintosh interjected. “I think they prefer to be called prosthetists.”

“Whatever, I can’t pronounce it properly!”

“Anyway, they are a bit cagey about what they can do for me.”

“What have they said to you?”

Rex shifted around the bed on his clenched fists. He was getting used to swinging around on his fists and backside.

“I know my stumps are very short, and it doesn’t need a genius to work out that bilateral prosthetics are going to be difficult to use.”

“You’re absolutely right, Rex, ideally a double above amputee needs at least twenty centimetres of thigh to work a prosthetic socket, knee and ankle.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got about eight each side.”

“That’s right. I am sure you’ve already worked out that you are going to need to use a wheelchair most of the time.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much.”

“But you might like to try what they call, affectionately ‘stubbies’.”

“Oh, those funny little legs I see some of the guys using?”

“Yes, they are not intended for long walks but they could be very useful around the house, getting into and out of a car, walking up to a swimming pool for example.”

“Ok, I’ll given them a go.”

 

Chapter 18

 

As Rex was dispatched to Headley Court, the forces rehabilitation centre, Andy and his father were signing the lease to the gym. The business plan showed a profit within eight months if Andy could generate the level of business he expected. True to form, the original punters returned but then a steady stream of new people followed. Old, young, yoga aficionados and others joined and soon the gym was at near capacity from seven in the morning to nine at night each day.

 

Tim awoke to the sound of Andy getting up. It was only five and he was in a hurry.

“Come back to bed! I need a little help with something stiff under the sheets.”

“Sorry, mate. I’d love to, but I’ve got an early class at the gym.”

“Oh, OK.”

Tim was disappointed. He was spending less and less time with his fiancé, so time-consuming was his work at the gym. Tim was worried about his partner. He was working twelve hour days, sometimes more and often over the weekend as well. Tim knew Andy was completely dedicated to making the project work and to repay his father, but the armless man was getting lonely and a little fretful.

 

“Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

“Yes, of course, what is it?”

Ron poured milk on his cereal while Tim explained his predicament.

“You’ll need to talk to him about how you feel. If you don’t you’ll wind yourself up and possibly lash out at Andy. He’s doing this as much for you as for himself, you do know that, don’t you?”

Tim locked his left elbow, opened the claw and deftly picked up his mug. He was still enamoured by the new prosthetic arms, so delighted that a bit of clever engineering had given him new freedom to exist independently.

“I asked him about buying a place together.”

“That’s a good move, son.”

“Yeah, he got a bit funny about it.”

“How so?”

“Said he wanted us to be equal partners and that he really wanted to be able to match the cash I got after my accident.”

“He’s a man of principle, that’s certain, but is it feasible?”

“Not really, I’ve got a hundred and twelve thousand in my savings account. He’s shown me his ISA which has fifty thou. He adds about a thousand a month but it’ll take him ages to match what I’ve got saved up.”

Ron looked up from the table, scanning Tim’s face. He was an honest and open man, a man who played fair, cared for others and was always considerate. He could see the pain and confusion in his son’s eyes and it made him sad.

“There’s a way to deal with this.”

“There is?”

“Yes, but it will rely on Susie, Ralph and Jenny agreeing.”

 

Having explained his idea Tim brightened up.

“I’ll talk to him tonight. No, I’ll go meet him for lunch.”

Ron stood, pecked his son on the forehead and made his way out to work.

 

Andy met his partner in a café opposite the gym. He looked on with pride as his armless lover manipulated his hooks, manfully scooping up beans from an all-day breakfast.

Tim started, hesitantly.

“So, we need a place of our own.”

 “Yes, I can’t wait.”

“And, when Rex gets home, we’re going to have to give up the annex for him because it’s on the ground floor.”

“Yes, it did cross my mind.”

Andy looked up at his amputee mate, wondering where this was going.

 

“I saw a fab two-bed flat in Downton Road, new-build, all fitted out. They’re asking a hundred and ninety-eight thousand but I bet we could get a discount.”

Andy nodded, looking a little askance.

“Ron says he will lend me fifty thousand, so that means with your fifty, my fifty and perhaps fifty from your mum and dad, we could afford it,” he continued, conscious that he was blurting it all out nervously.

“So, you repay your mum and dad as you earn the cash and I do the same until we’ve paid them off. Then it is ours, fifty fifty.”

Tim looked down at his half-eaten sausage, waiting for a reply. No reply was forthcoming, but Tim looked up shocked as Andy reached across the table and placed both hands on Tim’s hooks.

“Genius, just genius.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved. I was so nervous to suggest it, but it’s all down to Ralph and Susie, I guess.”

Andy laughed out loud.

“They’ll be delighted.”

“How come?”

“I’d asked them to lend me seventy thousand already so I could match your savings and their financial advisor agreed that it was the best solution for them. The loan will come from dad’s company. Something to do with tax savings or something.”

Both men stood up and embraced, not caring what the hairy-arsed builders, plumbers and electricians thought about two men, one with plastic and metal arms hugging in the dingy, greasy spoon café.

 

“I’m surprised how big the rooms are,” commented Susie, as she strolled around the apartment with Ralph and the two boys in tow.

“Yes, the builder wanted to create something a bit special. A design they could use in their promotional material.”

“So, you’ve got two double bedrooms, an en-suite, a kitchen diner, study and a lovely large living room and a family bathroom.”

“Yes, and two parking spaces.”

Susie smiled, taking in the boy’s excitement at the idea of finally owning their own property.

“Are you sure about being on the ground floor?”

“Yes, although it’s difficult to tell, this flat was designed to accommodate a disabled person.”

“Oh, you’d never know.”

“The doorways are wider, the taps all lever style and the light switches lower level and the shower is a wet-room design so anyone in a wheelchair can just roll in.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I know I can walk OK but we were thinking that these little adaptations will work for me and, of course, Rex when he comes and stays with us”

“You two are not only clever, you’re thoughtful and kind. How are you getting on with Rex?” “Really well. He’s looking forward to getting home to Ron and Jenny and getting to meet you and my horrible little brother.”

 

“Not so horrible and you need to remember he’s eighteen in a few weeks. Makes you two a couple of oldies!”

 

Chapter 19

 

“I see what you mean. They’re actually very useful.”

Rex took another step between the walking rails. He was getting used to taking the weight of his upper body through his short thigh stumps and into the sockets of his stubbies. It felt odd but he was coping. He had been speaking to another soldier named Guy with similarly high amputations, who was three weeks ahead of him in his own rehabilitation. He was getting on well with Guy, a humorous Welshman. Unlike so many of the others, he never moaned, never complained and was always looking at ways to improve his mobility and independence.

“The best advice I had from my physio was to keep an eye on my weight.”

Rex nodded, sagely. He’d been a sturdy fifteen stone before his amputations. Fit, fast and powerful.

“When I was lying in bed I just stuffed myself with crisps and sweets. Comfort eating, really.” “Yeah, I know mate, I was shocked to find I had a spare tyre.”

“That’s what kills us DAKs.”

Both men looked at each other and grinned as DAK was part of a private lingo between the wounded soldiers, standing for ‘double above knee amputee’. In hospital, and here in Headley Court, it was a kind of top-trump. DAKs were rare and special, or so they told themselves, much more committed to the cause that some namby-pamby bloke who had lost a foot or a few fingers.

 

Rex listened attentively to the litany of issues that could befall a DAK. Pressure sores, lower back problems, circulation issues, poor posture, kidney stones. The list was endless.

“You know, when I first got here there was a guy a bit like us with both legs off, bloody great ex-marine who refused to do anything for himself so they moved him around in a sling on a tripod trolley or on a gurney. Turned into a great big fat, whinging bastard”

“What happened to him?”

“Topped himself.”

“Jeez!” hissed Rex as he took another short step in his stubbies, learning the nuances of walking and balancing.

“Watch!” commanded Guy as Rex stood sweating between the parallel bars. Smoothly and gracefully, Guy placed his hands on the gym mat and lifted himself into a perfect handstand. He walked around on his hands and then titled backwards to land perfectly of the little block feet at the ends of his prosthetics. He performed a truncated cartwheel then pulled himself up a sisal rope using just his arms.

“That’s a target for you, matey. Took me a bit of practice but it was worth it.”

“Thanks mate, I appreciate the advice.”

 

Chapter 20

 

“Andy, what’s it like living with a man with no arms?”

Roger, who had just turned eighteen, had always been inquisitive about Tim’s amputations and, whether through his youth, or just naivety, asked frank and sometimes slightly intrusive questions of the amputee. Tim answered openly and freely, delighted that the young man, soon to be his second brother-in-law seemed completely at ease with his disability.

 

“Why do you ask, squib?”

Roger wrestled his older brother to the sofa and they had a playful fight, just as they had so many times before.

“I mean, does it bother you that he’s got stumps instead of arms?”

“No, not at all.”

“I mean, can he do much in, er, well, bed?”

Andy pulled back to look at his brother intently.

“I don’t normally discuss my sex-life and certainly not with a sprout like you!”

Roger stared into the middle-distance, his face troubled.

“Can I ask you about something that’s really confusing me?”

“Of course.”

“Please don’t tell mum and dad.”

“No, I won’t. What is it?”

 

Andy placed his hand around Roger’s shoulder as he sobbed out his troubles. He explained how he was turned on by the images of amputees he had seen on the web, how that was the only thing he wanked to and how Tim had become a kind of icon, someone who fascinated him and excited him. Roger stopped talking, his face smudged with tears.

“I bet you hate me.”

“Not one bit, little brother.”

“Thanks for listening. I won’t raise the subject again but I’m terrified about meeting Rex, I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t, I promise. Now, I’m going to share a little secret with you.”

Roger nodded.

“When I first met Tim it was on the bus going to school. I was intrigued by his disability and, yes, I was a little turned on by him, his body and most of all, his personality. As we got more intimate, his lack of arms became irrelevant to our relationship but he and I wanted his handicap to feature in our love-life. I romanced his stumps, made love to them and cherished them. It was my way of saying ‘I love you Tim’ arms or no arms.”

Roger nodded and looked relieved.

“An amputee is a man with something missing, that’s all. There are nice amputees, wicked amputees, amputee murderers and thieves. They’re no different from anyone else but for one thing. They need to know that they are accepted and that their disability is part of them they cannot change. If, for example, you ever meet an amputee, talk to them, find out about their lives, their family and their dreams and aspirations. Let them talk about their disability, don’t quiz them or force them, let it happen naturally. Don’t show pity or sadness. They’re in the same room as you because they want to be. Say or do something unreasonable and they’ll leave the room and you behind.”

“Thanks bro. I knew I could rely on you to give me good advice.”

“Have you seen a photo of Rex?”

“No, I was wondering what he looked like.”

“Go grab my phone.”

Roger returned with his brother’s phone and he quickly found Rex’s Facebook page.

“This is before he was blown up.”

Andy flicked through the images making Roger exhale deeply.

“Wow, fit and good looking.”

“And here’s a bit of video from our trip to see him last weekend. What do you reckon?”

“The same - fit and good looking.”

“So, now you’ve got it. Legs, no legs. He’s the same man. You’ll make friends with him and he with you. He’s a part of our family and you’ll love him just as the rest of the family.”

“What if he’s gay?”

“And what if he is?”

“Well, do I make a move on him?”

“If he is and he wants to make a move on you, let him but, first, get to know him as a friend. His self-esteem may well be a bit battered and his self-image distorted. Make those fears disappear and who knows, maybe something will come of it. The only problem is you’re an ugly wee fuck and I can’t imagine anyone would ever want to shag you.”

 

Their play-fighting recommenced and Roger felt a lot better about himself and the strange thoughts that had been haunting his brain.

 

Chapter 21

 

“Hello Rex!”

The young amputee put down the dumb-bells he was exercising with and looked up at the uniformed man standing beside him.

“Er, hello?”

“I’m Major Parfitt, commanding officer of your brigade.”

Rex saluted, automatically. It was unheard of for someone so highly ranked to even address a squaddie like himself.

“At ease, son, at ease.”

“Thank you sir. I’m afraid I’ve worked up a bit of a sweat.”

“That’s good, young man. Fitness is all, especially since you lost your legs. Your arms will be doing twice the work. Can you spare a few minutes?”

“Yes sir, of course.”

Rex checked that the wheels of his chair were locked and he heaved himself into the seat, bum first, as he’d been taught. He wheeled himself along behind the major to a small ante-room. The major sat at a small table and Rex swivelled around to face him.

“This is strictly off the record. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. What is it?”

 

Parfitt cleared his throat before speaking.

“Have you been subject to any untoward behaviour from any of the staff while you have been here?”

Rex looked puzzled.

“What I mean is, has anyone made sexual advances to you, taken photographs of you or propositioned you in any way?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

Parfitt reached into a buff coloured A4 envelope and pulled out a very familiar image. It was of Rex, naked in a bathroom.

“Gosh, sir, yes that’s me, but I had no idea...”

“No son, you wouldn’t have any idea. What about this one?”

 This was excruciatingly embarrassing for the young amputee. The next picture was of him, lying on his side masturbating in the same bathroom.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry...”

“No need to be young man. It’s perfectly normal to knock out a couple from time to time. After all, you’re young and fit. Even me, at my age, still get urges.”

“So, sir, how did you get these pictures?”

“That’s the puzzle. They were found in a patient folder. Clearly placed there by mistake, but the worrying thing is who took them and why did they specifically focus on you?”

Rex’s head was reeling. Not only did he feel terrible that he had been caught on camera wanking, he was embarrassed that these images should be in the hands of his commanding officer.

“I have spoken to the head surgeon, operations director and the HR manager at the centre. We’ve been trying to match staff rota’s and working patterns to you and whoever is taking these pictures.”

Rex nodded.

“Your privacy and the reputation of the centre have been severely compromised and we need to find out who is abusing their position of trust.”

 

The implications of what Rex had just learnt made him angry.

“Sir, I guess who ever took these shots may have more of me and perhaps other inmates.”

“That’s our concern. Who’s to say that he or she hasn’t taken video as well?”

“Oh fuck, I’m just thinking of me in the nude being posted all over the internet.”

Parfitt reached across and patted Rex on the shoulder.

“We’ve a contingency for that, young man. One of our less well-publicised departments is scanning the web for photos such as these. Don’t ask me how they do it, but they do.”

“Goodness, that’s clever!”

“Yes, and, unfortunately I have to confirm that just one of these photographs appeared on a Tumblr site yesterday.”

“Shit!”

“Yes Rex, shit!”

Rex was getting more and more agitated.

“What if my mum sees this on-line?”

“Relax son. She won’t. We’ve closed down the site and are tracing its owner.”

“Well, that’s a relief”

 

Parfitt looked Rex deep in the eye, placed his hands on the table conspiratorially.

“We need your help to catch this little traitor.”

“Yes sir, I understand.”

“He or she, is clearly obsessed by you and your, er, disability, so we need to agree a plan.”

 

Chapter 22

 

“We’ll miss you two around the house.”

Jenny gave Tim a hug as she wrapped mugs in newspaper and placed them in a packing crate.

“Thanks for saying that. I know we’ll miss you as well, but we’re only down the road.”

The apartment had been purchased in double-quick time. It took only four weeks from the offer being accepted to the sale completing. Andy and Tim had been sensible, deciding not to splash out on too many new things until they were settled in. They would work out what they wanted as time went by. Happily for Tim, Ralph had spoken to his son about the hours he was putting in at the gym. They agreed to recruit an assistant to ease his work load and a part-time accountant to do the books. Andy could now spend more time managing rather than doing which helped refresh the bond between the two men. It improved their love life as well, so the boys were happy that their apartment had been built with extra sound insulation.

 

“Hi Rex, how’s it going, mate?”

Tim was on Facetime with the double leg amputee chatting away animatedly.

“Oh, it’s fine but I’m hellishly bored.”

“Guess you must be. When are you being discharged?”

“They told me this morning it’ll be in two weeks but I’ve got a big decision to make.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been told that I can stay on in the Army and take a desk-job somewhere, but they can’t tell me where.”

“What do you think about that?”

“Hmm, I was never very good with words and numbers so the thought of pushing paper around all day doesn’t appeal.”

“I’m not surprised. What’s the other option?”

“Accept a medical discharge.”

 

Tim didn’t speak for a minute as an idea floated around in his mind.

“What do you fancy doing in Civvy Street?”

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, mate, really I have.”

“Go on.”

“You gave me the idea in the first place.”

 Tim looked surprised.

“I did?”

“Yup. I watched and re-watched your kick-boxing videos and I thought I might be able to do something in a gym, for example.”

Tim burst out laughing.

“What is it?”

Tim giggled again.

“A couple of days ago Andy was talking about needing another instructor at his gym.”

Rex’s eyes brightened.

“And, well, your name came up.”

“Don’t bull-shit me!”

“I’m not. He needs a bloke who can train guys on the heavy weights. I think you’ve had plenty of experience?”

“Yeah, I have, but who’s going to accept instruction from a legless cripple?”

Tim tut-tutted.

“The same people who accept kick boxing lessons from an armless cripple.”

 

They fell about laughing.

“When can I talk to Andy?”

“I’ll get him to call you later.”

“Thanks mate.”

“Rex, you know I’m really impressed by the way you’re dealing with your injuries. I’ve been there and it’s hard, I know.”

Rex nodded.

“If you come back to the family we’ll see you right, you do know that.”

“Yeah, I do, and I must thank you for asking. Having an amputee as my brother-in-law is helping a great deal.”

Tim smiled.

“We’ll help each other mate, I promise.”

 

Rex had been given a sophisticated mobile phone by his commanding officer, Parfitt. It was to be used to record and signal anything unusual as they tried to track down and identify the ‘mole’ in their midst taking photographs of the legless man, and probably other patients as well. The amputee decided to set a trap and, after a particularly gruelling gym session, made it clear to as many staff as he could that he was going to take a nap in his room before lunch.

 

He set the phone and its camera to work when it sensed movement. It was well enough concealed in his bedside locker but, with the lens set to fisheye, it would capture anyone lurking at his open door or anyone brave enough to enter while he pretended to sleep. He stripped off his T-shirt and shorts and lay naked bar for a skimpy pair of briefs.

 

Listening to the gentle burble of activity in the facility he moved around on his bed, as if in a dream, to expose various angles of his body. He flexed his stumps and let his hands drop down to the short nubs to scratch or rub them. Hhe thought that whoever it was who wanted photos would like to capture a bit of action.

 

To anyone looking on he was having a nightmare or just being restless. About twenty minutes into his pretend nap, he was conscious of movement. Light footsteps entered his room, the slight aroma of an unfamiliar scent or aftershave, the quick movements of a figure he could just make out through a crack in his eyelids. Clearing his throat, he made as to wake up and the figure was gone, soft steps beating a hasty retreat.

 

“Got you, you bastard,” he said through gritted teeth. Retrieving the phone, he scrolled down and pressed play.

“Fucking hell!”

A woman he recognised was using her phone to record him on video. He whispered to himself.

“It’s her!”

Rex grabbed a pair of shorts and his hoody and flopped into his wheelchair. He wheeled out of the facility and stopped on a terrace where some of the lads went to smoke.

 

He saved the footage and sent a text with the film attached to Parfitt and waited.

“Good lad, well done,” came the terse reply. “Don’t do anything or say anything to anyone.” “Yes sir.”

 

Twenty minutes passed when he noticed a dark grey van with blacked-out windows appear in the sweeping drive of the facility. Three military police officers jumped out and made their way to the reception. Another ten minutes passed and they returned with the figure of a women, her head covered in a blanket, being escorted to the vehicle. The mole had entered the trap he had set and been caught.

 

“Hello Rex. Bloody good job, young man!” Parfitt strode towards him with his hand out. They shook and Parfitt explained.

“That bitch of a woman was already known to be dodgy. She’d been suspended from two hospitals and somehow faked her references to get a job here.”

“Blimey sir.”

“And that’s not all. she was selling images on-line, making a bloody fortune!”

“Jeez, sir, that’s terrible.”

For a moment Rex wondered why anyone would want pictures of his crippled body, but let the thought pass.

Parfitt smiled in a vindictive manner.

“Yes, Rex, terrible but we’ve taken down her website. Charged her with all manner of crimes so she’ll go to prison for quite a stretch, I’m pleased to say.”

“Yes, sir, that’s good. I feel very relieved, not just for me but all the other guys who pass through this place.”

 

The captain turned on his heel then swung back.

“I nearly forgot. The Army will be applying to the court to have any money she has earned from her crimes to be confiscated.”

Rex looked puzzled.

“It’s usually applied to drug dealers and the like but it applies here as well. The brigadier has decided that half will go to further the work here at the rehabilitation unit and…” he hesitated, then smiled.

“Half will go to you.”

“What?”

“Yes, that’s right, fifty percent is for you and tax free to boot!”

“You’re a fine soldier, Rex. I wish you well in whatever you decide to do next with your career.”

 

Chapter 23

 

He left. Rex saw him once more when he was called to Army HQ to be discharged and presented with his service medal and a cheque for eighty-five thousand pounds from the mole’s illegal proceeds. He had already banked over four hundred thousand as part of his compensation package for being left legless after his time in the army. The bitch had made a fortune and now it was going to its rightful home. Something to make Rex’s new life as a legless ex-soldier a little bit easier.

 

“Do you think Rex would like a bit of a get-together to welcome him home?”

Ron was sitting next to his wife sipping cocoa as the they watched the nine o’clock news. Jenny pondered the idea for a few moments.

“Who would you invite?”

“Our lot, Andy’s family and maybe his friends from six-form college?”

Jenny fell quiet.

“It’s a nice idea but maybe it’ll be a bit too much too soon?”

Ron took a sip of his drink.

“I think you might be right. I know, let’s ask Tim and Andy.”

“Good idea”

 

Tim ignored the beep from his phone. It would have to wait. His mouth was full of Andy’s cock and his lover was just about to swallow a burst of the armless lad’s spunk. There was no way he would miss that moment.

 

“Time for a chat, mate?” Tim read Rex’s text and pressed speed dial.

“Hi, how’s it going?”

“Fine. They’ve issued me with my new permanent wheelchair, a tasty sporty black number, and a new set of stubbies so I’m set to come home on Friday.”

“I’m pleased. I bet your mum’s excited.”

“Nervous more like. I can cope on my own OK but she does tend to fuss around me.”

“You’ll get used to it. My dad was terrible to start with. I had to keep telling him to let me try. Only then did he get the idea that I had to work out things for myself.”

 

The two amputees chatted happily until Rex paused. “Tim, something’s been bothering me.”

“Well, you can ask me. What is it?”

Rex recanted the story about being photographed and published on a dodgy website. Tim listened patiently until Rex had told his story.

“Ah, so, your first encounter with a devotee.”

“Devo-what?”

“Rex, you need to know that there are loads of men and women out there who get turned on by amputees.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think anyone really knows. It’s just a fetish or obsession, I guess. Just don’t be surprised if a pretty girl or handsome fella tries to befriend you. It might well be your stumps they’re interested in rather than you”

“Goodness. I’ve never heard anything so strange!”

“OK, what turns you on?”

“Er, I’d rather not say.”

“Oops, I’ve touched a sore spot, haven’t I?”

“You could say that.”

“Want to tell me?”

The conversation was tense. Rex’s voice slightly strained.

“Er, oh fuck it!”

“Go on.”

“Tim, I think I’m like you and Andy.”

“What, blokes?”

“No, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“Not until you say it.”

“I’m gay.”

Tim paused. “Welcome to the club! Membership is free and fun is guaranteed.”

“Don’t take the piss, mate.”

“I’m not, I promise, but that makes four of us.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Andy’s younger brother Roger came out to his parents a couple of years ago.”

“Bloody hell!”

 

Somewhat more relaxed after revealing his secret, Rex went on to explain that he had had a few brief encounters with men during his army training, but nothing more. No emotion or affection. Tim reassured him that one day he would find the right person, just as he had in Andy, but advised him not to look too hard. Time would bring his life-mate to him when it judged it appropriate.

 

There was a family party to welcome Rex home. He declined inviting his school-mates, many of whom he had not seen for years. He just wanted to be with his family, renewing friendships and getting to know Andy’s mum and dad and the rather handsome

nineteen-year old Roger, Andy’s younger brother.

 

Days passed with Rex settling in to his adapted annex which was conveniently attached to Ron and Jenny’s new house. He built a disciplined routine which involved pushing himself two miles out to Andy’s gym in his sport chair and two miles back after a couple of hours working out. He was happy at home, pleased to be back with his father and step-mum, but a bit lonely. Everywhere he looked he saw happy couples. Tim and Andy, Ralph and Susie and, of course, Ron and Jenny.

 

One evening when he was feeling a little low and had consumed three tins of lager, he went on line and found a gay dating site. He took a few selfies, wrote a description and waited. Within an hour he received three replies. each of which turned his stomach. The respondents were odd. More than odd. Phrases like “Show me your stumps!”, “Can you still fuck with no legs?”, “Did you lose your cock and balls?” floated into his living room across the ether. He deleted his account and took off to bed, silently cursing his status as a crippled ex-soldier.

 

Chapter 24

 

History repeated itself when Roger failed his A-levels, just as his elder brother had. He and his parents decided that retaking them would not bear much fruit, so he applied for, and got taken onto, an apprenticeship scheme as a trainee joiner. This involved fine carpentry, making bespoke window frames and doors, for example. The young lad loved his work and got on well with the bosses. His skills were soon put to good use at home. He built cabinets for his father’s den of fine elm wood. He designed and constructed a beautiful single‑pedestal table of oak for Ron and Jenny’s new house. He was loving his life but felt an emptiness within, an itch he could not scratch.

 

“Bugger!” Rex exclaimed, as he inadvertently tipped himself out of his chair one more time. The layout of the annex was fine but it did not fully suit his needs when in his chair. He was OK on his stubbies but they were difficult and uncomfortable to use, his stumps being so short.

 

The door frame to the bedroom was narrow and as it was in a load-bearing wall, it could not be widened. The shower room was a tight squeeze and he had to hand walk on his bum to get into the cubicle which was six inches higher than the floor. Clicking onto a house sale website, he scrolled through properties that might suit.

“Hmm, retirement complex, shared ownership, two storey cottages, naah, oh wait, detached nineteen thirties bungalow in need of full restoration.”

 

The place was a complete mess. No heating, broken window frames, no kitchen to speak of, a lime green bathroom – ugh! - but perfect!”

The estate agent’s floor plan helped. Every room was of a good size. The hall was enormous and the smallest of the three bedrooms was still sixteen by nine feet, large enough to be converted into a wet room. Mains gas, electricity and water were on the site so, if he could buy it, conversion to his needs would be straightforward.

 

Rex clicked on the reply button and received a standard response. The agent would contact him tomorrow and arrange a viewing. An idea began to form in his head. Perhaps Roger would be interested in some of the work, especially the carpentry required.

 

“Hi Roger. What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Oh, hi Rex. Nothing much. I was going to pop over and see Andy and Tim, but that’s flexible.”

“How do you feel about looking at a little project with me?”

“Sounds interesting. What is it?”

“I’m thinking about buying a place to do up for myself.”

“Sounds great, I’d love to see it.”

“The agent’s meeting me there at ten. Shall I call for you at half past nine?”

“Yes, fine. I’ll bring a camera and tape measure.”

“Good thinking, mate.”

 

Roger was always slightly nervous in Rex’s company. He knew why, so always held back a bit for fear of making a fool of himself. This was a different matter. This was when his skills as a carpenter could be used to impress a man whose very presence had such a deep effect on himself. Concentrating on the task at hand would help suppress the feelings he had for the legless soldier.

 

Rex hauled himself from his car onto the pavement. From the look of the photographs on the website, the plot was in a bit of a state and no good for his wheelchair, so he’d reluctantly pushed his stumps into the sockets of his stubbies and made his way to the property. He steadied himself on his stubbies and, using two short canes, waddled to where the young sales agent stood open-mouthed.

“Hi! I guess you don’t get to meet too many legless men in your job, do you?”

“Sorry sir. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No worries. I’m used to it. Ah, here’s my mate Roger.”

 

The two men shook hands and then followed the agent up the broken crazy-paving path to the rickety front door.

“It was owned by an older couple. She died a few years ago and Mr Runcie is now living in the BLESMA home on the outskirts of town.”

“Did you ever meet Mr Runcie?”

“Er, no, my boss did. Said he was a very nice man with a wicked sense of humour. Ex-army, I believe.”

Rex allowed the agent to continue his spiel while Roger took notes and copious photographs.

“Do you think he’ll consider offers on the asking price?”

“I’m sure it’s worth a try. After all, it’s been on the market for nearly nine months and we’ve had loads of viewings but not one offer.”

“Any idea why?”

“Asbestos.”

“Ah, where?”

The roof tiles, the garage walls and roof. It’s a major clean-up job and it won’t be cheap.”

“Well, thank you for your time. I’ll give your office a call later today.”

 

Chapter 25

 

The agent took off in his bright yellow mini most probably relieved about not having to look at the empty space where Rex’s legs ended so abruptly.

“Fancy a bit of an adventure, young Roger?”

The nineteen-year-old’s heart gave a little flip.

“Yes, old fella, of course. I’m up for anything!”

“Don’t be so bloody cheeky, I’m only twenty-three!”

Roger grinned in line with his mate. Both were happy to be joking so freely and easily together.

“Jump in. We can pick your car up later.”

 

Slightly puzzled, Roger did as he was told and hopped into the passenger seat.

“Where are we off to?”

“Did you hear what the agent said about Mr Runcie living in the BLESMA home?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“BLESMA stands for British Limbless Ex-Serviceman’s Association.”

The penny dropped in the younger mans’ head.

“Oh, so he’s one of you then.”

“What do you mean ‘one of you?’ You cheeky sod!”

“Oh, Rex, I’m so sorry…”

“Ha! Caught you. You’re going to have to be quicker on the uptake with an ex-squaddie who happens to have stumps instead of legs!”

Roger smiled with relief.

“OK smart arse. Are you planning on a game of stump trumps with some poor old retired soldier, hoping you’ll get a big discount on the bungalow?”

“Not exactly, but if he knows it’s for me it might just seal the deal.”

 The two men sat grinning at each other like schoolboys having got away with a prank on their teacher.

 

“Don’t be shocked young’un, but I’ve got to take these bloody things off. They’re killing me.”

Rex tapped the sockets of his stubbies with his fists.

“Look away if you prefer. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Not quite sure what to do, Roger grabbed his phone and checked for texts.

“This is stupid,” he thought to himself so turned to watch Rex pull off first the right then the left prosthetic limb.

“Ah, that’s better. They don’t half make me sweat.”

“Want me to put them in the boot?”

Rex looked up at the somewhat touching concern and empathy that emanated from the youngster’s eyes.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Naah, not for a friend like you.”

Rex was shocked and a little nervous. What was he to say? He did not want to lose the moment of tenderness and intimacy between them so he reached over and patted Roger on the knee.

“I had two full legs not so long ago, but I never had a friend like you before.”

That was enough. The moment faded but both men ruminated on that moment as the sat‑nav guided them towards the BLESMA retirement home.

 

Chapter 26

 

Tim was now deeply embedded in the rehabilitation and limb-fitting section of Salisbury hospital. It had been a year and he was given authorisation to recruit an assistant as his work-load expanded dramatically. The list of candidates applying for the job was wide and varied. As an equal-opportunities employer, the advert clearly stated that they would consider applications from any sector of society and that the only requirements were GCSEs in maths and English and preferably a science.

 

“Dr Wiles! Good to see you again. Did you enjoy your holiday?”

“Tim, we had a marvellous time. Thank you for asking.”

“That’s good. You looked like you needed a break.”

“Hmm, you’re right. We are all working too hard It’s the cuts to budgets that make it so difficult. However I’m delighted that the NHS trust authorised your new assistant position.”

Tim grinned.

“I was a bit naughty,” he whispered conspiratorially.

“You were?”

“Yes, I laid it on a bit thick about my prosthetic arms and how a bit of help would make me more effective in my own job.”

Wiles winked and took Tim’s hook in his hands.

“Play to your strengths, young man. Never forget that those arms of yours could be the joker if you let them, but you served an ace. Well done!”

 

“Andy, would you look at these CVs with me?”

Tim had spent Saturday at home and had left his arms off. The previous day he had tripped on a curb at the hospital and although he knew how to roll into a fall to save himself, the left arm and its short stump had hit the tarmac with a resounding thump. His stump was bruised and his shoulders ached. Dr Wiles had examined Tim’s bicep stumps and shoulders and pronounced that it was nothing serious but that it would be better to rest up and not use the arms for a few days.

 

Andy didn’t care at all. He was happy to look after Tim. The massages he administered to his amputee lover soon developed into a gentle sex-session which satisfied them both. Andy loved it when Tim wanked him with his bare feet. Tim enjoyed just as much being sucked off by his handsome mate.

 

“He looks interesting.”

Andy ran his finger down the list of achievements.

“Hmm, Adajo Embinko. Where’s that name from?”

“Sounds African to me.”

Andy pulled out his I-pad and carried out a name search.

.“Yup, you’re correct. Nigeria”

“Does he have a Facebook page?” asked Tim.

“Should we be looking?”

“Can’t do any harm.”

Andy thumbed the screen scrolling through the four identical names that matched.

“Look at this!”

“What? Show me!”

Tim read out aloud.

“Adajo is twenty years old and came to the UK when he was fifteen after being injured in a road accident in Lagos. He was orphaned in the crash and the British Embassy arranged for him to come to the UK for rehabilitation. He was subsequently adopted by his foster parents and went on to study at Roehampton College before gaining a diploma in occupational therapy.”

“Sounds good. What does he look like?”

Andy clicked the photo-page link.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Andy. He thumbed the screen again to see images of Adajo swimming, running and generally having fun. The only thing unusual was that Adajo was wearing an artificial arm and an artificial leg on his left side.

“Poor bugger, that must have been some accident.”

Andy bookmarked the page and they looked through the other candidates. A woman in her thirties seemed very well qualified and another man in his forties also. They were both able‑bodied which did not matter to Tim but the qualifications, age and experience with disability presented by Adajo were compelling.

“I’ll get all three to come to interview next week.”

Tim thought that Adajo might just be the one for the job.

 

Chapter 27

 

“Rex, it’s pouring with rain. Let me get your chair for you, save you getting your bum wet.”

“Thanks mate.”

Rex was touched at the thoughtfulness of his young companion. It was a real pain to have to hand-walk to the boot of his car, drag the chair out, pop on the wheels when it was raining cats and dogs. Roger quickly worked out how the wheels clicked into the alloy frame of Rex’s wheelchair. He rolled it towards the driver’s door, shielding the squishy foam seat cushion with his anorak.

“Thanks Roger. I appreciate it.”

He was met with a boyish grin.

“I found a brolly in the boot. I’ll hold it over us as we walk.” 

 

Rex pulled up to the reception and was greeted by a friendly middle-aged woman.

“Good morning. I wonder if it is possible to see Mr Runcie?” the legless veteran enquired. “Are you a family member?”

“No, we don’t actually know Mr Runcie but I am thinking of purchasing his bungalow which is up for sale.”

“Oh yes. He told me it was taking a long time to sell.”

Rex nodded.

“I’ll go and see if he’s available.”

 

“I can’t believe you’ve just done that with so much confidence. I’d be stuttering all over the place. you’re a really very impressive guy.”

Rex looked up at his tall young friend.

“I was always a cocky bugger. The army made me tougher still, so I can pretty much talk my way into anything.”

“And I guess out of anything?”

“Not always, mate, sometimes I’m as tongue-tied as a teenager.”

Roger did not press the point but he was pleased that Rex had revealed that he was, perhaps, just a little more vulnerable than his exterior image betrayed. Rex, on the other hand, felt a pleasant surge through his torso at being praised so freely and openly by the youngster. The woman returned.

“He’d be delighted to see you. Room one-oh-one.”

“Thank you.”

The double amputee ex-soldier wheeled forward purposefully, followed by Roger. “Ninety-three, five, seven, nine, here we are. Hundred and one.”

 

The voice answering the knock was stronger than they expected. Pushing open the door, both young men were taken aback by what they found.

“Welcome, gentlemen. What a pleasure to have visitors.”

“Thank you for seeing us, Mr Runcie.”

“Bob. Call me Bob. Everyone else does.”

The boys approached the older man who sat in a powered wheelchair. Rex reached forward and took the proffered right hook in his warm fingers. Roger did the same.

“Seems I trump you in the amputee stakes.”

He let out a deep laugh.

“Bob, I really think you do.”

“And what happened to you? Rex, isn’t it?”

“Yes Bob, and this is Roger. I stood on an IED in Afghanistan and got trimmed back a bit.” Bob laughed again with Roger struggling to restrain a giggle.

“And you, Bob?”

“Nothing so heroic, I’m afraid. I got caught up in steel anchor cables at Portsmouth naval dock, just before we were to set sail on HMS Illustrious.”

Bob closed his eyes, clearly reflecting on the incident.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Roger.

“Ouch indeed. I was twenty. Now I’m sixty, and I had to deal with it. I’ve had a good life and plan to continue having a good time,” replied Bob.

“Oh, Bob. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so flippant.”

Bob stared into the young man’s eyes.

“Listen Roger. There is nothing you can say to upset me, I promise. I’m well-used to being a limbless ex-soldier and, as I’m sure your mate here will tell you, we’ve lost a few limbs, not our minds nor our sense of humour.”

Rex smiled at Bob, silently thanking him for the mini-lecture and raised a hand to pat Roger on the waist.

“Now, let’s go down to the restaurant and get something to eat. I guess you two lads are always hungry. I know I was when I was your age.”

 

Bob was chatty, informative and at ease with his disabilities. He had had both legs severed at the knees by the steel cables. Subsequent surgery left him with two mid-thigh stumps. Both hands had also been crushed so that left him with mid-forearm stubs. He used his prosthetic hooks effortlessly and both lads noticed how much more versatile he was in their use than Tim.

“The hooks are fine. I manage OK, but I’ve got arthritis in my hip so I had to give up on the old tin legs a few years ago.”

“So you managed OK for quite a long time in the bungalow with your wife?”

“Wife? Who told you I had a wife?”

“The estate agent.”

“What a load of tossers they are. Elsie was my spinster sister. She came to live with me after the accident and helped when I couldn’t manage.”

Both boys nodded, non-plussed.

“No, boys, I was never one for the girls, but as a sailor on a ship with two thousand other men, I had my fun!”

Rex turned to Roger smiling.

“Oh, so you’re a bit like Roger and me then. Bat for the other side.”

Bob let out a huge guffaw.

“Good turn of phrase, young man. Even after the amputations, I was never short of a bit of the other, if you get my drift.”

 

Lunch continued with many laughs and the sharing of common experiences. The house was discussed and tips given.

“I know it’s that ruddy asbestos that’s putting people off. Frankly it’s not a big deal. Perhaps three thousand quid to get it removed by professionals. Some buyers are so lily-livered they just don’t want to take any risks.”

“I’m willing to,” Rex said, looking into Bob’s eyes.

“Well, that’s a deal then. How much can you afford?”

“The asking price.”

“No, never. Let’s take five thousand off and you can buy your pretty young boyfriend here a proper engagement ring.”

 

The table fell silent, Bob picking up the tension between the younger men immediately. “Have I said something out of place?” he asked a little cautiously.

“Er, no, well…” stammered Rex.

The double amputee looked up at Roger and across to Bob.

“We’re not boyfriends, just mates.”

Bob nearly exploded.

“My god, you are a pair of silly buggers. If I was in either of your places, I’d be planning the marriage now. Look at you! You’re made for each other. Oh dear, the youth of today knows nothing.”

 

Chapter 28

 

“So, Adajo. Tell me about your work experience so far.”

Tim expected the young black man’s accent to be difficult to follow but when he spoke, Tim was surprised how typically English it was. College had placed him at Roehampton rehabilitation centre as an intern. He did well and qualified but there was no position for him to take up.

“I tried very hard, sir, to find work where I could help people like us, but there was nothing in London and, I think, some did not want to take the risk of me, you know, because I am disabled.”

Tim smiled warmly and shrugged his shoulders so his forearms inclined to ninety degrees.

“I know what you mean, Adajo. What exactly is your disability?”

“Sir, you can see that my left arm is a prosthetic. I used the plastic hand today, rather than my hook, but seeing you there with two artificial arms, I think I was silly. The hook is much more functional.”

“Yes, I agree. They’re the only things that work for me.”

The young black man pulled up his sleeve to reveal a typical NHS below elbow prosthetic arm.

“They’re not so special, are they?”

“No sir, I like the look of yours. So much more sleek and stylish.”

Tim grinned. He was liking the way this man communicated. He immediately thought how well he would relate to the patients in the rehabilitation unit.

“And, sir, my left leg was amputated at the thigh, so I have a prosthetic here as well.”

Adajo leaned forward and pulled up the hem of his trouser leg.

“This one is nearly worn out. I use it to play basketball with my friends.”

 

The interview continued with both men warming to each other.

“When will I know if I am successful in my application?”

Tim pushed back in his chair, shuffled the notes he had made from the first two interviews, looked at Adajo’s CV again and then intently fixed him with a stare.

“How about right now? Do you want to work with me?”

Adajo leapt from his chair as Tim stood up. The hug nearly knocked him out. It certainly winded him.

“Sir, sir, I will make you so proud of me!”

“First thing to learn is that my name’s Tim, not sir.”

Adajo nodded.

“Second thing to learn is that if you work hard, you’ll do well with us. The team is a great group of people.”

 

Tim watched as the black double amputee almost skipped down the corridor. His uneven gait looked troubling. He clearly needed a new prosthetic leg. Tim would see what he could do to help.

 

Bob was getting tired.

“Lads, I need a nap after lunch so do you mind pushing off?”

Both men liked his forthright nature.

“Not at all, it’s been a real honour to meet you. I’ll put the offer in to the agent this afternoon.”

“Make sure you drop in again soon. I’ve really had a lovely day and I’d like to see you both again.”

Roger spoke up.

“Bob, do you ever get out of the home?”

He let out a huff.

“Sometimes some do-gooders load us up into a bloody great van and take us somewhere silly like a garden centre for lunch or a nice little trip into the countryside.”

 His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“I generally stay put here. It’s a bit of a faff with this bloody great electric chair I have to use. Why do you ask, anyway?”

Roger responded, a little hesitantly.

“Mum and dad are having a party soon and I’d like you to come.”

Bob fixed him with a stare, looking uncertain.

“Why?”

“Because you’re funny and entertaining.”

“I’ll think about it. Give me your mobile number and I’ll call you.”

 

The rain had stopped. Roger took Rex’s chair and placed it in the boot. The two men sat in silence, the engine running at tick-over.

“That was nice of you.”

“I think he’s bored in that home. I’m sure he’ll get on well with the family.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

A cloud of silence descended over them again.

“Roger…”

“Yes?”

“Er, nothing.”

Silence again. Rex flicked the wipers and moved to engage the automatic gears.

“Fuck it!”

“What’s up?”

“I feel like that tongue-tied teenager I mentioned before.”

“Well, untie your tongue, you big wally, and tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

Rex let out a sigh and turned to face his young mate.

“Look, Roger. I think, no, I know that I’m falling for you.”

Roger smiled and nodded warmly.

“It’s just, well, why would a good-looking, handsome, intelligent man like you want a broken‑down cripple like me?”

Roger kept smiling and reached over to take his mate’s hand in his own. Rex continued.

“I mean, I can offer you a home, as much love and attention as you need, but I’m never going to cycle around the park with you, walk our dog or make love to you as a man with legs would.”

 

Rex looked broken, he brushed a fleck of cotton from the half-filled cloth leg of his shorts, cursing silently that his stubs were so short they didn’t even reach the edge of the seat cushion. Roger cleared his throat.

“Rex, life has been good to me. I have the best family in the world, a career I love but a huge gap.”

He hesitated but squeezed Rex’s hand once more.

“You are filling that gap and I just love it. You’re my best friend, the man I confide in and the man who turns me on.”

“What, even without legs?”

“Even without legs.”

“Shit! Double-shit!”

“I really do care that you don’t have your legs. I really do care that you have to work around all the access issues, but I really care about you. The tough ex-soldier with a gooey toffee centre.”

 

Rex was crying gently. Roger continued.

“You’re strong, so strong but you’ve let me in under your defences and I’m honoured, honoured that you’re letting me inside you as I have let you inside my mind. If we try hard, I am sure we can make a real go of this. I can’t let it go. I need you too much.”

“Wow, you never stuttered once!”

“No, and I won’t, as long as my big, hard-as-nails boyfriend is by my side.”

Rex was still unsure.

“Roger, look. If it all goes wrong and I fuck up, tell me and I’ll walk away and leave you in peace.”

“Don’t you mean roll away?”

“Cheeky bastard!”

The boys leaned in for a kiss which lasted longer than either expected. They did not realise that Bob was sitting at his bedroom window observing the scene and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

Chapter 29

 

“Good morning, Adajo, and welcome to the rehabilitation unit.”

Tim walked the new recruit around the centre introducing him to the staff and patients alike.

“You’ll be shadowing me for the first couple of weeks. Then I’ll assign you to a patient. As soon as you build up your confidence, we’ll assign another three so you’ll know exactly what the word ‘busy’ means.”

 Tim was glad that Adajo had chosen to use his prosthetic left hook rather than the clumsy plastic hand. He would be much more efficient.

 

“Good morning, Mary. Did you sleep well?”

Mary was a woman of seventy who had suffered a stroke. Her speech was difficult to follow but she was working hard with a speech therapist and was making herself better understood.

“Mary, this is Adajo. He’s going to work with you on your exercises. Is that OK?”

She nodded and smiled lopsidedly.

Adajo pulled out a box of foam balls and long, flexible plastic bars.

“OK Mary. Let’s put you through your paces.”

Taking her affected right hand in his, he popped a foam ball into her palm and showed her how to squeeze it rhythmically to help regain the use of her fingers.

 

Tim walked away happy that the new man was going to do all right. He returned twenty minutes later to hear laughter. Adajo had her sitting on the edge of her bed flexing her legs alternately.

“Looking good, Mary. Keep it up, Adajo!”

 

Within weeks, the black therapist had become a favourite with the team and the patients. One grumpy old man who had lost both feet to diabetes did not seem happy but when Adajo told him that his grandfather had served in the British army, his attitude changed.

 

Tim took an internal call as he sat typing up a patient’s notes.

“Dr Wiles, how can I help?”

“We’ve got a very difficult case on the surgical ward. I’d like to discuss it with you.”

“No problem. Do you want me to come across to the ward?”

“Please.”

 

The armless man was puzzled. The rehabilitation team normally met their new patients when they were in a stable medical condition. Whoever Dr Wiles wanted to discuss was clearly not yet well enough to come to his rehabilitation unit.

 

“Thank you, Tim. I know you’re very busy.”

Tim smiled and shrugged. Dr Wiles was his hero and he would do anything to help. The surgeon opened a patient file which Tim quickly scanned.

“Oh, I see.”

“Yes, it’s the first hemicorporectomy we’ve ever performed in this hospital. In fact, we called in Mr Rogers from The Bristol Royal Infirmary who has some experience.”

“So it was performed when?”

“Two days ago, but he’s still in an induced coma.”

“How did it happen?”

“The poor lad was working in a shunting yard and he didn’t hear the train coming. He was knocked over, dragged under the wheels and his pelvis and legs were crushed multiple times as the train ran over him.”

Tim shook his head sadly.

“What are the chances of him surviving?”

Dr Wiles sighed.

“None of us really know, to tell you the truth. The literature mainly refers to patients with pelvic cancers or paraplegics whose skin has ulcerated and broken down.”

Tim nodded again.

“In the case of cancer patients, they don’t seem to complain of loss of sexual function as they’re just grateful for a few more years of life, and paraplegics, well, they’ve usually got used to having no sexual function anyway.”

“But this man is twenty-six.”

“Yes, married but no kids.”

“Oh god. How is his wife coping?”

“Terribly.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Both men fell silent.

“My biggest concern is that he’ll try to kill himself.”

“Yes, I can see that, but he’ll struggle to do anything about it until he’s been through rehabilitation. That’s if we can even get him to respond to our programme.”

Tim had a thought.

“Do we know any other people who’ve been through this operation, not through illness but via traumatic injury?”

Dr Wiles smiled.

“I was hoping you’d be able to help us find out.”

 

Chapter 30

 

“What do you think about Roger and Rex?”

Susie was fretting and her husband Ralph sensed it immediately.

“What’s worrying you, love?”

Susie paced around the kitchen looking anxious.

“Is there something wrong with us?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I just can’t understand why both of our sons should choose to pair up with severely disabled men.”

 

Ralph took his wife in his arms, pecked her on the chin and held her in a firm cuddle.

“How disabled are they exactly?”

“Well, if you hadn’t already noticed, Tim’s got no arms and Rex no legs. How disabled do you think they are?”

She was almost shouting.

“Is this about you, or them?”

“I don’t know, love, I really don’t know.”

Ralph turned her chin towards his face. He studied her neatly formed features and smiled. It always made her smile back, reassured by the man she loved.

 

“I think I’ve got some idea. Hear me out, love, and tell me what you think.”

Susie nodded. She knew that Ralph was cool and logical while she was much more highly strung.

“We created, with love, two beautiful sons. You’ll agree with that?”

She nodded.

“We both had secret hopes that they’d grow up healthy and strong and find loving partners.”

She nodded again.

“I bet you have thoughts about big church weddings, loving daughters-in-law and the patter of our grandchildrens’ feet around this kitchen as you cooked a beautiful Sunday lunch for our children and grandchildren.”

Susie let out a sob.

“You think you’ve been denied something that any mother secretly craves, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And, to cap it all, your youngest boy is now moving out of the family home leaving us two old codgers alone in this place.”

Susie pulled away, dabbed her eyes and looked at her husband square on.

“Thank god I have you. Of course, you are absolutely right. I’m a complete fool for being so selfish. I should be thinking of my children and what they want rather than feeling like I’ve been robbed of my rights.”

“Exactly, love. Our world is as it is. We cannot change our sons into heterosexuals and we cannot tell them who and who not to fall in love with. If you want to keep their friendship we need to embrace both our boys’ choices, support them and love their partners, otherwise they’ll turn away from us and we’ll lose them.”

 

Susie relaxed. She thought back to the last Sunday when they had all been together at Ron and Jenny’s celebrating Tim’s twenty-fourth birthday. The laughter, the humour, the fun and friendship shared between them had been magical and, she recalled fondly the completely natural affection her two boys demonstrated to their partners. During that afternoon spent together, the two men’s lack of limbs amounted to nothing. The only thing that mattered was the family and the love it had for all its members.

 

“Right. What about this party?” Ralph looked up absent-mindedly.

“Come on, darling! You might like to remember that you invited Uncle Tom Cobbley and all here on Sunday for a barbeque.”

“Oh gosh, yes, is it next Sunday?”

“Yes, so we’ve to get our shit together and fast!”

 Ralph laughed at his wife’s use of a swear word. It was so unlike her but had greater impact coming from her mouth than anyone else’s.

 

Chapter 31

 

Tim did a little research at the clinic into the hemicorporectomy procedure and its implications for anyone undergoing such aggressive surgery. It was the most disabling and disfiguring operation anyone could put themselves through. The patient was basically cut in half. The lumber spine was severed, the pelvis and lower limbs removed along with the genitals and anus.

 

The urinary functions were looked after by a bag collection system discharging from a stoma in the abdomen and the faecal functions dealt with similarly. The patient would spend much of his time lying prone and would have to cope with all manner of subsidiary issues such hormonal treatment to deal with the loss of testicles and the realisation that they possessed only half the body they had been born with.

 

Mortality rates were high for those with pelvic cancers but surprisingly good for those who had been paraplegics and those with traumatic injuries. Not surprisingly, there were few experts in the field as the surgery was very rare. However, as Tim continued to search the web he kept coming across the same name: Pavel Jakub. It was clear that this surgeon, obviously well respected in his medical facility in the Czech Republic, was an expert in the field. Using Google Translate, the armless young man read that Jakub pioneered a new approach to the procedure that improved the lives of those who underwent the surgery. He found three YouTube videos. Unfortunately, he could not understand the language, but all three showed guys who seemed happy with their lives after losing half their bodies.

 

He decided to take a chance. The hospital where Jakub worked displayed its phone number and as they were just an hour ahead in time, he dialled the number. Swinging his shoulder up hard he managed to hold the phone close to his ear. The hook locked tight against the handset.

 

Tim introduced himself to the person who picked up.

“Good afternoon. Can I talk to you in English?”

“Yes, of course. How can I help you?”

“I am calling from Salisbury hospital in England. We are part of the NHS and I would like to speak to Dr Pavel Jakub.”

“Hold the line.”

 A few clicks later and Tim repeated his request to another voice, adding detail of why he wanted to talk to the surgeon.

“Hold.”

“Hello, this is Pavel Jakub.”

Tim nearly dropped the phone, he was so excited. Explaining the situation, Jakub was erudite, charming and completely clear in his explanation.

“Tim, I have to tell you that all my patients, except one who unfortunately died of an infection have never regretted undergoing the procedure.”

 Tim expressed his surprise.

“It is the power of life, the need to see your loved ones, the joy in just a few more days of happiness that keeps the patients positive.”

Tim questioned him further.

“Yes, you need a good psychologist, excellent physios and prosthetists as well as an endocrinologist who can sort out his testosterone levels.”

“Do you think any of your patients would consider visiting the UK to talk to this man?”

Jakub fell silent for a minute.

“How old is your patient?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And you said he was injured in a train accident?”

“Yes.”

“I have the perfect candidate and I am almost certain he speaks good English.”

“Let me have your email address and I’ll get back to you.”

 

Thanking Jakub profusely, Tim did drop the phone, not through clumsiness but because two of the elastic bands that kept tension in his left prosthetic hook decided to fail simultaneously. This set off another calamity as the shoulder cable bracket on the right side parted company with the upper edge of the socket.

“Oh, bugger!”

Tim was left with two non-functioning claws which hung limply at his side.

“Adajo, help me!” he pleaded.

The young black man inspected the damage and picked up the phone.

“Hi Warren, it’s Adajo. Can you fit Tim in for some repairs? His arms have broken down!”

 

 

Chapter 32

 

Rex and Roger spent as many hours together as they could. Both were occupied in the day, what with the younger man’s carpentry job and the older man’s responsibilities at the gym. They were engaged in what many would consider to be an old-fashioned courtship in which they dated, went to the cinema and played computer games together. They snogged and kissed and cuddled but Roger felt that Rex should take the lead in getting more serious. Andy explained to his younger brother that was how it happened with Tim. It took the double arm amputee time to be comfortable enough to get more intimate. Andy advised Roger to just be patient.

 

“Hi Rog! You’re looking pretty cool today.”

“Thanks mate. New trainers and jeans from money I got for my birthday.”

“Come over here and give your legless soldier a kiss.”

Roger had quickly discovered that he could sit on the portion of Rex’s wheelchair cushion which was vacant. When he was sitting in his chair, his stubs were virtually invisible. Just rounded bumps.

 

“Do you realise we’ve been official for three months?”

Roger nodded and nuzzled into the crippled man’s neck.

“Well, I was thinking about doing something a bit special.”

Roger pulled back and looked into his face inquisitively.

“I thought we could go away for a few days. Just you and me to somewhere quiet.”

“That sounds nice. What have you got in mind?”

Rex explained that one of his ex-army mates, who he still kept in touch with, had inherited a wooden cabin in the New Forest and that his mate had had it done up after he had become a paraplegic after falling from a tank at high speed. It was fitted with a ramp, open plan shower room and a hot tub. Rex was free to use it whenever he wanted.

“That sounds absolutely great!”

“Can you get time off from the gym?”

“Yup. I’ll book it for next weekend if you’ve got nothing else on.”

“No, nothing. What a lovely idea!”

 

After a quick trip around the local supermarket, the boys followed the detailed instructions on how to find the cabin. The lanes became narrower and soon Roger spotted the sign of the bridle way they had been told to look out for.

“There it is!” he exclaimed.

Turning sharp left, they bumped down a grassy track until the land opened into a lightly wooded area. The hut lay in front of them, rustic, neat and tidy.

“Gosh, it’s like the Tardis. Tiny on the outside and huge on the inside.”

“Just perfect for a romantic weekend with the man I love.”

 

Rex heaved himself up the ramp, unlocked the door and dismounted from his wheelchair. He had discovered that hand-walking inside was the best bet for him. The wheelchair rolled in dirt and he did not want to abuse his mate’s generosity.

“Oh Rex, it’s lovely!”

“Yeah, not bad, not bad at all.”

“Hey, look out here!”

Roger ran across the living room to a set of French doors which he flung open.

“Oh my god! Look at that!”

Rex deftly swung on his hands and backside to take in the view. A glorious vista and a pine wooden deck into which was sunk a large Jacuzzi hot tub.

“Fancy a dip?” Roger asked hopefully.

“Maybe later,” came the reply.

Roger recognised the edge of nerves in his boyfriend’s voice and tried to imagine what he was thinking and feeling.

“It’s just you and me, matey. No one else. Just you and me.”

 

Roger fussed around putting away the food and checking every nook and cranny. The cabin had been stylishly refurbished. Plain, but smart. The work of a man rather than a woman.

 

They had a light lunch and settled down on a broad padded double-sized lounger to take in the view.

“There’s no-one, nothing around,” whispered Roger.

“Oh, look over there.”

The younger man spoke in a whisper and the couple watched a family of deer strolling through the trees, nibbling grass and taking in the sun. One of the bigger deer nuzzled a younger animal which both took to be a sign of affection.

 

“Rog, mate. Give me a hug, will you?”

Roger squirmed across the padded seat until he had embraced his best friend.

“You’re shaking.”

Rex nodded.

“I so much want this but I’m scared.”

“What of?”

“That you’ll see my, er…”

“You mean I’ll see your stumps?”

Rex nodded again and sniffed, trying not to cry.

“And what if I do?”

“You’ll hate me and leave me.”

“No way will that happen” “You can’t be sure. I mean, my stubs are, well…”

“A part of you?”

“Well yeah.”

“And tell me. Am I meant to love just your top half or am I allowed to love all of you?”

“You don’t understand. My stubs are so fucking ugly.”

“Who says?”

“I do.”

“Well, we won’t know for sure until I make love to them.”

 

Rex stiffened again and relaxed into Roger’s arms.

“I know– Why don’t I put on a little show for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just watch!”

 

The double leg amputee propped himself up on his elbows and quickly straightened the empty legs of his shorts which had ridden up to expose the tips of his short thigh stubs. He was so self-conscious, it was painful. Noiselessly, Roger stood in front of his best mate. He gyrated and turned as seductively as he could imagine. Unlacing his Converse All Stars slowly, slipping each foot out and pulling each sock sexily from his well-formed size nine feet. He wiggled his toes and then grasped the hem of his T-shirt. He gave a quick flash of his tummy with its tight six-pack, turned and did the same with his back, showing the legless man the beauty of his unspoilt teenage torso.

 

Rex smiled, clearly enjoying the show. Roger continued his strip tease. This time popping the top two buttons of his Levi 501s. Rex grinned broadly, encouraging him to continue. The younger man edged up his T-shirt further to revel something which surprised the older man - shiny chrome pins which pierced both nipples. Roger played with them between his fingers and made sexy grimaces as he enjoyed the twinge of pain he had triggered by his actions.

 

“Wow, I never knew!” was all Rex could find to say.

 

The T-shirt was off and Roger swung around, showing off his honed, lithe upper body. Rex was panting slightly. This was almost too much to bear. Roger turned his back on the legless man and gently, inch by inch, pulled his jeans down to reveal the beginnings of his arse crack. As he worked his trousers down further, he revealed his tight, symmetrical arse cheeks and another little surprise. No underpants. Just the familiar straps which held his jock strap up.

 

“Good god! You are something else!”

Roger gave him a sly look and finished pulling down his jeans. He did a sudden turn to face his best mate and carried on his sensuous dance, running his thumbs under the waistband of his jock strap and across his torso and meaty thighs. He was about to remove his jockstrap when Rex called out.

“Stop!”

Looking disappointed, the younger man bowed his head.

“That’s my job,” smiled Rex.

“Now come over here.”

 

Chapter 33

 

The young, near-naked man slunk over to where his boyfriend lay on the lounger.

“You are so beautiful. I still can’t imagine why you want to be with a cripple like me.”

Roger sat, stared the amputee directly in the eye and said “’Cos I love you Rex, that’s why.”

“I love you too, mate. Just let me take this slowly.”

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

They resumed their idyll, enjoying the peace, enjoying the view. The temperature was in the high twenties and both men began to perspire.

“Gosh, it’s a real scorcher.”

“Hmm, I fancy a dip in the tub. It doesn’t need heating up, not in this weather. Are you going to join me?”

“Good idea,” replied Rex, with a tinge of nerves running through his voice. Roger busied himself by folding back the covers and dipped a toe into the shimmering water. He had turned the pump on so the water fizzed and bucked madly. He thought that this might make it easier for Rex. Even if he went fully naked, it would be nigh on impossible for Roger to even catch a glimpse of the stumps which troubled the amputee so much.

 

Roger eased himself in carefully, getting used to the cool temperature, and he watched Rex heave off the lounger and make his way steadily to the tub on his hands. He surprised the younger man by getting into the water still wearing his shorts and T-shirt but, together in the tub with his severe disability concealed under the foaming water, he slowly relaxed. They mucked around giggling like kids until Roger said, “Let’s get that T-shirt off you. I want to feel your chest against mine.”

 

Rex, again a little nervous, agreed and their frolicking continued, both men getting closer and closer. Their lips locked together and their arms entwined.

“Slip my jockstrap off, buddy.”

Rex allowed his hand to travel down his lover’s torso, revelling in the firmness of his muscled stomach and smoothness of the young skin.

“Feels good, Rex, really good.”

The brief garment was off and sunk to the bottom of the tub. Rex did not hesitate. He reached out and gently sought the younger man’s cock. It was as stiff as a piece of iron with the balls heavy in their sac.

 

“Oh Rex, I’ve wanted this so much. Can’t you see what you do to me? I’ve never been this hard before.”

The next move surprised the younger man. He found himself propelled to the surface by Rex’s strong arms. He hooked his own over the rim of the tub and bobbed about, his cock just inches from Rex’s face. The amputee smiled, opened his mouth and teased the tightly circumcised organ with his lips. He worked its length into his mouth, using his teeth to nibble and tease his mate’s precious penis.

“Oh my god, you better stop otherwise I’ll cum.”

“That was my plan, young’un.”

“Let me do the same for you.”

A shadow of concern floated across Rex’s face but then he smiled.

“OK, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I want to, believe me.”

 

Rex placed his elbows over the rim of the tub and relaxed his body. It floated up to the surface. Roger looked puzzled.

“No legs, no weight to keep me in the water. I float like a cork!”

 

Roger was suddenly presented with the naked muscular torso of the severely disabled man and a pair of soggy wet shorts which clung to Rex’s tight waist. There was no mistaking how short the amputee’s stumps were and how high up his thighs the surgeon had had to cut to save the man’s life.

 

Rex did his best to relax as Roger worked the shorts over his hips.

“Close your eyes, Rex. It might be easier for you.”

The older man nodded and did as Roger said. He shivered slightly as his naked stumps were revealed. A puff of wind tickled the hairs on his wet leg remnants. He kept his eyes closed as Roger slowly removed his tight underpants. He could not bear to look at Roger’s reaction to his crippled body. The next sensation was one he had never felt before.

 

Roger tried not to rush unclothing his mate. He wanted Rex to enjoy the intimacy of the moment and to understand that he was not in any way turned off by Rex’s lack of legs. He took the tip of Rex’s prick gently into his mouth and massaged it with his tongue. He swallowed the substantial organ as far as he could before gagging slightly and withdrew, fondling the amputee’s heavy balls with his fingers.

 

The next move was a risk, but one worth taking. The nineteen-year-old moved his head to the side and gently licked the underside of his lover’s right stump. Rex twitched and opened his eyes in a panic.

“It’s OK. Relax,” soothed the younger man.

Rex did as he was told. Roger got a little more adventurous, taking Rex’s left stump in his hands, massaging it gently. He felt the tightly formed muscles that covered the pitiful remains of his mate’s severed femur. He moved to the right-hand side and repeated the massage. Suddenly he was aware of Rex shuddering as a rope of thick sperm issued forth from his engorged cock, landing on Roger’s face and chest.

“Oh fucking hell, Roger! That was unbelievable!”

“Yes, and you came without me touching your cock. I was just working on your stumps and boom! You cover me in baby-making juice!”

“Do you believe me now when I tell you I love you, and I mean all of you?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Rex, still panting from his orgasm.

“I cannot understand why you just playing with my stumps made me come. Honestly, it was like you were playing with my cock. It was so exciting.”

“Good. I’m pleased. We’ve got the rest of the weekend to experiment but first you need to sort me out. My brain is boiling with all the pent-up sperm I’ve got saved for you.”

 

Chapter 34

 

The young bilateral arm amputee was distracted by a chime signifying that he had received an email.

 

“Dear Tim, thank you for calling me yesterday. I was truly surprised to receive a telephone call from England. I hope you could understand me. I know my accent is very strong.”

 

Tim continued to read the email from Dr Jakub.

 

“I have spoken to the patient I mentioned who had the surgery 2 years ago. He was trapped in an industrial steel press so a hemicorporectomy was the only option or he would have died. He tells me that he is happy to visit England and to meet your patient but that he does not have much money for somewhere to stay.”

 

The young double arm amputee sat back in his chair. He had not thought about the consequences of asking someone so severely disabled to travel across Europe.

 

“He needs a chaperone and the only person who can go with him is his partner, so the cost will be for two flights and accommodation.”

 

Tim quickly googled local hotels with easy access rooms and direct flights. A week’s visit and flights would cost well over a thousand pounds.

 

“His name is Piotr and he is a web-designer. Most of his work is in English so he is fluent in your language and very intelligent. I don’t think there is a better person for your patient to talk to especially as he has a good sense of humour and found a life-partner as well.”

 

Tim picked up the internal phone.

“Dr Wiles, hi. It’s Tim. I think I’ve found exactly what we need.”

 The surgeon put the phone down with a satisfied grunt. Calling the Royal College of Surgeons, he explained the situation and was granted sufficient money from their charitable trust to cover all the costs. In exchange, the college wanted him to write a medical paper to be published in their journal to help educate other surgeons on the hemicorporectomy procedure.

“Tim, you’ve done well. His name is Jeff Paterson, by the way and, I’m sorry to say, his wife has told me she cannot cope with his disability. She’s gone back to Poland to be with her family.”

“Poor bugger!”

“Exactly.”

Tim sighed, realising that he was going to play a very big role in Jeff’s life. He was not sure he would be able to make this ‘half a man’ accept his crippling, but he would give it his best shot.

 

Chapter 35

 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Tim paced the living room of his new flat, unsure how to coax out of his lover the problem that was clearly troubling him.

“Come on, Andy. You know me better than that. At least be honest with me.”

 

The young gym owner pushed out of his seat, tipping the chair so it clattered across the floor.

“Nothing, now leave me alone!”

Tim was alarmed at the ferocity of his boyfriend’s response. He had recovered from the assault in which his prosthetic arms had been wrenched from his shoulders but he still feared any kind of violence. His armless condition made it near impossible to defend himself even though he could deliver a good kick learnt from his kick-boxing training.

 

The door slammed and Andy was gone. Two days passed but the young amputee heard nothing. His parents had no idea where he was and Andy did not respond to texts or calls. Tim was sad and confused. He thought they had a strong and long-lasting relationship but maybe he had assumed too much. Was it the sex? His disability? The fact that Andy filled the gaps when Tim could not reach up to pull something off a shelf? What? He had no idea.

 

After five days, Andy’s parents contacted the police who listed him as a missing person. His bank card had not been used, nor his passport. They had checked his phone and asked for a series of recent photographs but that was all. To all intents and purposes, Andy had disappeared into thin air. Ralph, Andy’s father, stepped in to run the gym. He had retired earlier that month and was good at the business aspects but no substitute for Andy in the training department. Ralph recruited a replacement for his son and tried to keep the family together as they pondered Andy’s fate.

 

The families, connected by shared friendship and love, pulled together as best they could. Tim managed in the flat by himself with a little help from Andy’s younger brother Roger and, of course, his own step-mother.

 

The weeks turned to months and all hope was lost. No-one knew anything about the young man and what had become of him.

 

“Tim! It’s Rex. Fancy a drink out tonight?”

“Hi Rex. That’s kind of you but, no. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Come on, mate. When I was down in the dumps you helped me. Let me do the same for you.”

Tim took time to be persuaded but eventually  agreed to meet at a bar equidistant between Rex’s now completed bungalow and Tim’s apartment.

 

“Glass of white please.”

Rex rolled towards the bar and wedged a pint and glass of Pinot Grigio between his stumps.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, and thanks for persuading me to come out tonight. I feel so grey and lonely.”

“I can see that, Tim. You’ve lost a bit of weight as well.”

Tim nodded in agreement.

 

“Have you any idea why he left?”

Tim’s head dropped, not wanting to look Rex in the eye. He nodded in the affirmative.

“You do?” replied Rex, excited by this development. Tim raised his weary eyes and smiled sadly.

“After he left I started to think why. Why would he do this to me and his family, why would he abandon his business?”

Rex nodded.

“I kept looking at his laptop, thinking there must be clues, but I didn’t have his password. He never shared it with me.”

“That’s odd. Roger and me both share our passwords. I guess we don’t have secrets from each other so it didn’t matter.”

Tim shook his head.

“About three months before Andy left, he got a bit moody. Nothing serious. I just put it down to the amount of pressure he was under at the gym.”

Rex nodded. He knew how hard Andy worked and how dedicated he was to making the gym a success.

“So after he disappeared, his PC became an obsession. I kept looking at it, trying all combinations of passwords I could think off but no success.”

“Didn’t the police ask to look at it?”

“No. I didn’t tell them about it. I was frightened Andy might get into trouble.”

“How come?”

“I guess I was being silly but I thought, you know, inappropriate stuff.”

Rex nodded sagely.

“It must have been like having a stranger in the room you couldn’t talk to.”

“Yeah. His PC was taunting me. It felt like it was the key to his disappearance but I had no way of turning the key in the lock.”

 

Rex took a deep draught of beer.

“Horrible for you.” “

Yes, but I was worried more for Andy than myself, but then I dropped my phone, cracked the screen and needed it repaired.”

“Ha! I did the same. I ran over my own phone in this fucking chair. Cost eighty quid to get the screen replaced.”

Tim smiled, a little more openly.

“So, I went to see Ahmed on the market. You know the guy with the phone stall?”

“Yeah, he replaced the screen on my‘phone.”

“I mentioned the PC and not being able to open it so he said ‘I can do that’. I was stunned. I’d looked at the fucking PC for months. It teased me with its contents and was a clear route to the cause of Andy leaving me.”

 

Rex noted how strained the armless man’s voice had become so he reached across, under the table and petted his knee. Tim looked up and smiled wearily. He sat back in his chair, shrugged his shoulders and opened his left hook to pick up his wine glass.

“So you’ve seen what’s on his PC, then?”

Tim nodded but remained silent.

“Was it what you expected. something inappropriate?”

Tim shook his head and lent forward so as not to be overheard.

“Why don’t we finish up here and I’ll show you?”

“OK.”

The legless and armless men finished their drinks with Rex wheeling and Tim striding down the tree-lined street to Tim’s flat.

 

“Another drink?”

“Yeah, why not? Roger’s at one of his mates so I’m on a free pass tonight.”

Rex was trying to keep the atmosphere as light as he could, conscious at just how tense the man with prosthetic arms appeared.

 

Tim fired up the PC and tapped in a new password after Ahmed had unlocked the machine.

“Rex, this is going to shock you, I guess, just like it did me. What he’s being doing is just so personal, so selfish, so weird. I fear for his sanity and I’m not sure of my own, to tell you the truth.”

 

Chapter 36

 

“Hi Rog! How’re you doing, mate?”

Jim was one of Roger’s best friends. They had followed each other through school from the age of five. Jim became a brick-layer earning a small fortune and Roger practised his carpentry and now pulled in a good wage. Their friendship was that of two blokes. A bit lairy, sweary, jokey and piss-taking. It was the kind of banter they really enjoyed and although Jim was straight, he did not care that his friend preferred to suck cock rather than lick tits.

“How’s stumpy?”

“Oh shut up, you fuck! He’s bloody amazing, that’s what he is.”

“Did you change his nappy before you went out?”

Jim was teasing his mate unmercifully.

“I tell you, mate, there’s nothing wrong with Rex’s tackle. He didn’t lose his cock or balls in the explosion.”

 

Jim grabbed Roger from behind and they wrestled on the floor. Spluttering, Roger asked “Lost your girlfriend, did you? I heard it was because she couldn’t feel your tiny dick when you fucked her!”

“Nothing wrong with the size of my dick, mate.”

“Well, last time I saw it, I thought it looked more like a little clitoris than a man-sized cock.”

 

They fought on playfully, and sat back, panting, taking deep swigs from their cans of lager.

“Here, Rog. This is the girl I’m meeting on Saturday. Found her on Tinder. Name’s Kim.” “She’s pretty, Jim. Looks kind of sweet.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, but she’s kind of cheeky too.”

“How come?”

“Look! She sent me this last night.”

Jim swiped his phone and there she was, sitting and smiling sweetly into the camera. Then there was another shot, poking her tongue out. Jim scrolled through another ten photos until Roger said “Go back one, mate. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Look there. Seems she’s sitting in a wheelchair. I can just see the top edge of her push‑rims, just like Rex’s.”

“Never! She can’t be!”

“Why not?”

“She never said anything.”

“Why should she?”

“Well, you know, I’m kind of expecting a girl who can walk.”

“Maybe she can.”

 

Roger grabbed his own phone and brought up an image of Rex sitting in his chair.

“Look, mate, almost exactly the same design of wheel rim.”

Jim looked to be in shock.

“I’ll have to cancel my date.”

“Why?”

“’Cos, er…”

“’Cos she’s disabled?”

The penny dropped and Jim looked his mate in the eye.

“Sorry, Roger. I’m being a prick. It’s just I never see Rex as anyone but Rex. The chair’s kind of invisible now I know him.”

“Yeah, and what’s that girl going to think if you dump her before even meeting up?”

 

Jim sat back and sighed.

“You’re right, mate. I can’t do that to her.”

He looked a little panicky.

“But what if she’s, you know, paralysed or something, or has funny little deformed legs? She won’t be able to have sex and, mate, I need sex morning, noon and night!”

Roger smiled and swiped his phone. He pressed the screen and handed it over to his mate. Jim sat open-mouthed as he watched the video Roger had set playing.

“Oh my god!”

Roger just smiled as Jim took in the images before him. A hunky army boy with no legs fucking the guy who sat just inches from him.

“Actually Jim, there’s a lot more you can do when one of you is legless.”

 

Jim grabbed his own phone and quickly tapped out a message.

“Hi babe, are you still OK for meeting up on Saturday?”

The answer came quickly. “Yes, are you having second thoughts?”

You could tell that the girl on the other end of the line was anxious.

“No, not at all, but I want to ask you something.”

The seconds ticked by. “What about?”

Jim hesitated, then tapped a quick reply.

“Seems like you are using a wheelchair. I can see the wheels in one of the photos. I’m cool with it, I promise.”

A minute ticked by and then the phone beeped. It was a photo of Jim’s date sitting on her bed in a brightly decorated bedroom. Both boys looked intently at the image.

“I don’t believe it. She’s got no legs!” exclaimed Jim.

“Mate, don’t leave her hanging on. Text her!”

 

“You are one good-looking lady. I can’t wait to meet you!”

A stream of emoticons followed with a brief explanation.

“I was born this way. everything else works, I promise. Just missing my legs.”

Roger smiled and was proud of his mate’s courage and common sense.

“It’s no problem to me. One of my mates lost his legs in Afghanistan and he does just fine.”

Another message tinkled into his phone.

“Does he work out at Andy’s gym?”

Roger smiled. So she knew Rex.

“Yeah, he does, and I’m sitting here with his boyfriend Roger.”

“Wow, double wow, so we’ll clear the dance floor when the four of us go out clubbing!”

 

“What a girl!”

“Yes, mate. Seems like she’s a good ’un. Just remember she is used to her disability. It’ll be you who has got to get used to it. As far as she is concerned, she is normal. You’re the freak.”

 

Chapter 37

 

Across town Rex was sitting with Tim in his flat as he clicked the keys of Andy’s laptop with his hooks. He used a rubberised stylus to swipe the touchpad.

“This still shocks me even now. I’ve been all over this laptop for the past week and each time I find something else.”

Tim was shaking slightly so Rex wheeled to the fridge, grabbed a fresh bottle of wine and topped up his friend’s glass.

“Take a look at this.”

Tim clicked on a link and was taken to an unfamiliar website. “Amp lovers” emblazoned the front screen with ghosted images of all types of male amputee. It was possible to make out their level of amputation but no facial features. Clicking further into the site there were various sections. ‘Recent sightings, video, fiction, artwork, amps for buddies, want to be’. The list was comprehensive. Rex looked puzzled.

“So what exactly is this?”

Tim swallowed.

“Best way I can describe it is a clearing house for people who are turned on by amputees.”

Rex snorted.

“What? You mean amputees like you and me?”

Tim nodded and opened his split claws and allowed them to close with a sharp click.

“Bloody hell!”

“Yes, bloody hell!”

“Oh my god. Are there any photos of you and me on this site?”

Tim looked up and smiled.

“No. At least Andy stepped back from that kind of treachery.”

Thoughts fired through Rex’s head and he struggled to compute them.

“Tim, er, is there any chance my Roger is a member of this site?”

“Hard to tell. they all use pseudonyms of course, but I’ve checked through over six hundred members and the only one in Wiltshire is ‘Stumpfiend’.”

“What? Stumpfiend?”

“Yup. That’s my Andy and his biography is as follows.”

“Fit gay gym owner living with DAE, looked to be amped myself”.

Rex stuttered.

“I don’t really understand.”

“Took me time to work it out too. DAE is Double Above Elbow.”

 Tim shrugged his shoulders making it obvious that his arms ended close to his shoulders.

“Ah, yes, I get it. I’m a DAK according to the guys at Headley Court.”

Tim nodded again.

“So he wants to be ‘amped’ himself?”

“Yes. That’s what he’s written.”

“Does he say how?”

“Quad.”

Rex looked puzzled.

“It means he wants both legs and both arms amputated.”

Rex was close to exploding.

“Sick fuck! He should know from the time he’s spent with you and me how shitty it can be to have lost limbs. Why on earth would he deliberately want to become an amputee?”

 

Tim reduced the screen and opened another tab. In silence, the two men read about the probable cause of someone wanting to become an amputee. It had a blanket term of BIID and was part of a whole range of body dysmorphias that included sex changes. blindness, deafness, paraplegia.

“I’m not sure whether to hate these people or feel sorry for them,” uttered Rex, still in shock.

“You know, I felt the same for a few days but reading their stories and their inner-most thoughts, I now feel quite sorry for them. It’s hard to imagine that, to them, you and me are ‘gods’ when, conversely, we feel insecure and embarrassed about our disabilities. To them we are perfect and they are imperfect still possessing of their limbs.”

“Jeez. This is weird.”

Rex glugged back his can of beer and rolled to the fridge to fetch another.

 

Tim minimised the BIID screen and fired up Google mail.

“If you think you were shocked before, this will really screw you up!”

“Thanks mate, just what I need.”

“Andy seems to be a very popular member of Amplover and he’s in contact with loads of them, discussing their latest web-finds, fantasising about what it will feel like to become an amputee, that sort of stuff.”

Rex speed-read some of the email exchanges.

“Somehow, it’s no different than guys talking about the type of tits they like or the size of their cock.”

“Yes, to these guys it’s all quite normal,” Rex thought out loud.

“I guess if an amputee got on OK with an Amplover member, there’d be no real issue.”

“I guess so. I wondered a lot about Andy and I reckon he was already turned on by amputees long before he met me.”

“I’m wondering about Roger,” Tim winked.

“I think you might need to have that conversation sometime soon.”

“Oh god, and there I was thinking he just loved me for me.”

“I think he does. He just has an added thrill being with a man with such dinky little stumps!”

“Oh fuck, not you as well. Are you sure you’re not a member of Amplovers?”

Tim laughed out loud.

“I’d not kick you out of bed.”

Rex play-punched him and mussed the armless man’s hair.

“I’d struggle to kick you out of mine!”

 

The moment of frisson passed, both amputees pulling back from what had fleetingly passed between them.

“OK, read this.”

Rex scanned the long email stream between Stumpfiend and another member using the nickname Mrsurgeon.

“Hmm, so Mrsurgeon seems to be the answer to Andy’s dreams.”

“Looks like it, but who knows, Mrsurgeon could be some dirty old fucker in a council flat tossing off on the fantasies shared between them.”

“I thought that at first but then I spotted this.”

It was an email address cleverly concealed in a long and boring diatribe about the NHS. Can you see how there are capital letters every third word?”

“Oh yes, that’s odd.”

“I thought so but it spells out his email address.”

“You’re more clever than I thought.”

“Fuck you! It took me three days to spot the code but the interesting thing is that it’s a UK mail account. That might explain why Andy didn’t need his passport.”

“You can be Watson and I’ll be Holmes.”

“I don’t think you’ll be joking when you see this.”

Tim clicked on the folder menu and scrolled down until he found a small piece of code embedded in a seemingly innocuous word document about health trends.

“Look, Rex. Spell out the first letter of each line.”

Rex looked puzzled but did as he was told.

“See?”

“This is his email address.’”

 

“Bloody hell, mate, this is serious.”

Tim nodded.

“Andy slipped up here, getting lazy or cocky, I reckon.”

“Why’s that?”

“He used his birthday as his password.”

“Not so clever.”

“No, and this is what I found going on between Andy and Mr Surgeon, or Bill as he reveals in his emails.”

 

“Hi Andy, great that we can chat in private. a great idea of yours to set up these hidden email accounts! To answer your question. yes, I am an orthopaedic surgeon but I had a little trouble last year when I amputated the wrong leg of a young man who had been diagnosed with osteosarcoma in his left leg. I was tired and a bit stressed so only realised what I’d done when the theatre nurse screamed out that I was taking off his right leg rather than his left. Needless to say I was mortified but had to finish the job. He was sent back to the ward and I was suspended immediately pending an investigation. I learnt that he went back into theatre the next day and lost the cancerous limb but now he was a DAK.

 

I admitted my mistake. there was no excuse and the hospital is negotiating a settlement to compensate him. I was sacked and am unlikely to be re-employed by the NHS. So, I’m in discussions with a Thai hospital who seem interested in my experience and knowledge and who seem to have no concern about my little mistake.”

 

“So, tell me about yourself and your dreams”

 

“Dear Bill, I hope you don’t mind me using your first name! It all started when I was a kid. Mum and dad took me on holiday to Morocco when I was 12. We toured the markets and stayed in a really nice hotel. I was allowed to go out on my own as the local people were so friendly and I came across a boy a bit older than me who had no legs. We couldn’t communicate because of the language difference but he seemed fascinated by my blond hair and fair skin. We met for three days on the trot just playing and messing about. I touched his stumps and he seemed to enjoy it.”

 

“A couple of years later I discovered what my cock was for and, well, every time I had a wank the image of the legless Arab boy came into my head. Ever since I’ve been obsessed with amputees and, I still can’t believe it, I’m living with a DAE who I met purely by chance on a bus!”

 

“What’s worse, is that my gay younger brother has hooked up with a DAK who is drop-dead gorgeous. Almost every day I see one or other amputee and I’m so jealous, so desperate to be like them.”

 

“Thank you for listening, I don’t want to bore you, but I hope you can help me.”

 

Rex pulled back from the screen and let out a long whistle.

“Jeez, Tim, he’s in a bad place.”

“You’re right. I felt anger when I first read these emails but, now, I don’t. I actually feel a great deal of compassion for him, love even. I just hope that he’s OK.”

 

 

Chapter 38

 

“Dr Wiles, Jeff is becoming a little restless.”

“I’ll come onto the ward. Give me a few minutes.”

Wiles strode along the corridors to the ICU section where the most severely ill patients were looked after. Jeff had been kept in an induced coma for ten days but as he was healing well, the team decided to bring him back to consciousness. To say the staff were crossing their fingers would be an understatement. Here was a man of twenty-six whose body ended where his navel once was. Even that had been removed during the amputation. Jeff now possessed of a foreshortened torso with two stoma to deal with his urine and solid waste.

 

“Jeff! Hello, my name is George Wiles. I’m the doctor looking after you.”

Jeff’s eyelids fluttered and he licked his lips. Nodding to a nurse, she dipped a cotton bud into a vial of fresh water and moistened the young man’s lips which were dry.

“You’ve been unconscious for ten days so we’re slowly waking you up.”

Jeff nodded, but then a frown crossed his face.

“Train, train accident.”

“Yes, Jeff, so you do remember. Good. You were run over in the shunting yard where you work.”

Jeff nodded again, slowly cracking open an eye.

“Not dead?”

“No, not dead at all.”

“Can’t believe it. Cut in half.”

“Yes, cut in half.”

“Shit!”

 

Jeff was becoming more familiar with his surroundings and forming sentences.

“Cut in half,” he said again, more forcefully. Dr Wiles took his hand and squeezed.

“Jeff, we had to finish the job carried out by the train. It cut you in half at the level of your tummy button. There was no way we could put you back together again so we have carried out major surgery to save your life.”

“OK. Will I live?”

“Yes, we are sure you will be OK as there is no infection, but it’ll require a great deal of effort on your part to get back to some form of normality.”

“Ha! Normality!”

Wiles squeezed his hand again.

“We need to build up your strength and get you fitted for a prosthetic so you can sit up unaided.”

Jeff was now fully alert, craning his neck to look at his body.

“Show me, please. I need to see.”

“OK Jeff, I’m happy to do that for you but remember it was major surgery. You are going to need to be strong. It will take time to get used to.”

 

Jeff nodded, his dark brown eyes taking in his surroundings. The nurse slowly raised the head of the bed. Jeff grimaced, feeling dizzy after lying flat for so long.

“Half a man. I’m half a man!”

Wiles, stood back and took in the sight of this handsome chap whose body ended so abruptly.

“My dick’s gone,” he said without emotion.

“Yes, your genitals were crushed beyond repair, but we’re sorting out your hormone levels so you’ll still remain masculine.”

Jeff nodded.

“Marta. Where’s my wife?”

“Jeff, she’s gone back to Poland. She said she cannot stay with you.”

“Bitch! I don’t care. She was only with me for my cash. I used to earn good money.”

 

Dr Wiles ushered the other medical staff out of the room and pulled up a chair.

“Jeff, are you OK to have a bit of a chat?”

“Yeah, why not? I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

“Not for a while, that’s true, but I want to talk to you about the next steps in your rehabilitation.”

Jeff nodded.

“I’ve always believed in being honest with all my patients. No bullshit. Just tell it as it is.”

“I appreciate that, doc. You know working on the railways is a job where bullshit just doesn’t work. Your life is at risk every minute of the day and someone did something seriously wrong for this to happen to me.”

“Yes, the police and railway safety investigator want to talk to you when you feel up to it.”

Jeff nodded.

“So, doc. What now?”

Dr Wiles was secretly relieved that this severely amputated man was so engaged in his future.

“As soon as you were brought into A&E, I had to make a decision. One of life or death, literally.”

Jeff nodded.

“I could have let you bleed out but when I looked at you, I took in that determined look on your face and saw how fit your upper body was, I said to myself that this guy would want to make a go of it.”

Jeff smiled back at the surgeon.

“Thank you.”

Dr Wiles continued. “I also thought that you, and you alone, had to decide whether to live or die.”

Jeff’s eyes opened wide. Wiles continued.

“Your rehabilitation is going to take a while. Reckon on ten weeks or more. But – and I will deny this if you repeat it – should you decide life is not worth living, I can help.”

Jeff relaxed.

“No need to say anymore, doc. It’s good to have that reassurance and no, I’ll say nothing to anyone else.”

Wiles crossed his fingers. The offer he had made was proposed by the psychiatrist assigned to Jeff’s case. It was a technique to give a severely injured person a way out if they really found they could not cope with their lives.

“Now that’s out the way, let’s deal with the practical stuff.”

“OK, do your worst. I have no idea.”

“Your body ends very smoothly in a rounded stump. Soon enough you’ll learn to balance on your stump and will be able to transfer from the bed to a wheelchair and into a bath, for example. The issue is that the skin is delicate as it comes from your back and tummy so we’ll have a prosthetic bucket made into which you can sit your torso. They’re very hi-tech and, I’m told, comfortable enough.”

Jeff nodded, interested in the doc’s explanation.

“Dealing with your toilet needs is a bit of a pain but you’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, tell me more.”

“OK. You’ve still got your bladder but because your penis and testicles were amputated by the train we’ve created what is called a stoma in your stomach wall. There’s a plastic tube or catheter inserted into your bladder and this drains into a bag which you empty after it fills.”

“Hmm. Sounds great!”

Wiles laughed.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Many people deal with this every day. The bowel is similar. Might be a bit smelly but the latest collection bags are easy to deal with.”

 

“So a wheelchair?”

“Yes, that’s what most patients with a hemicorporectomy prefer to use. It’ll give you stability and will keep your upper body strong. That’s what will get you through life.”

Jeff breathed out, building up the energy to ask the final question.

“So, I’m not stupid but I guess sex is off the menu?”

“Sex is a state of mind. It’s not all fucking and sucking you know.”

“Fucking hell! Here’s my posh doctor using language I’m used to on the railways.”

Wiles grinned.

“The best way to explain this is to refer to the experience of paraplegics. They still have their genitals but they don’t work. So they learn to experience pleasure from other parts of their bodies - their ears, lips, nipples and for you, the scar of your amputation will become incredibly sensitive. You’ll find another woman to love you, I am sure.”

“I bloody hope not!”

“What?”

“I only married Marta to get my parents out of my hair. I’ve been gay as long as I can remember but, you know, pressure from my mates and family just pushed me down the road to marriage. I hated her and was a bit naughty with some of my mates. Not sure they’ll want me now I’m half a man.”

 

Dr Wiles reached over and patted the amputee on the shoulder.

“You’re in for a surprise. Your therapist has found a Czech guy with the same amputation as you and he’s planning to come to the UK to see you. That’s if you’re up to it. Oh, he happens to be gay as well.”

Jeff smiled.

“Doc, you’re bloody amazing. Twenty minutes ago I was planning how to top myself. Now I’m looking forward to the challenge. So it’s a new body and a new way of life.”

 

Salisbury