THE BIID PILL

 

THE biid PILL

A new breakthrough drug is found to cure cases of biid.

But drugs can be dangerous…

 

A shocking tale of irresponsibility and prosthetic devices by strzeka

 

In hindsight, it was obvious that CaomalideM would fall into the wrong hands. The spate of victims was hidden by the ever-increasing incidence of meningitis, widely attributed to the warming climate and a lack of resources to study rapidly mutating common diseases and their effects on public health. The decades-long practice of publishing research results funded by public money was also under review with critics and victims’ families demanding an end to the formerly welcomed commitment to share public knowledge.

 

Its original sister drug, CaomalideA, had arrived to great acclaim and gratitude from mainly elderly citizens. Its developers were nominated for the Nobel Prize in Medicine. The new drug was the first to reverse the effects of rheumatoid arthritis in patients, most of whom were elderly, and it relieved them not only of painful daily torment but also enabled many of them to regain independent lives, decreasing the burden on overstretched health services. The drug acted on nerves and blood vessels in the extremities around bone tissue, and had a healing effect on diseased tissue over ten to twelve weeks.

 

The research team had discovered another application for basically the same molecule. Its mirrored version affects tissues in the opposite manner. Just as genes which produce orange trees or lemon trees are otherwise identical except for their orientation, so the mirrored caomalide molecule acts to close off blood supply thus destroying nerves and bone. The potentially catastrophic threat to public health was kept an in-house secret until a potential use was discovered. The drug could arrest sepsis in cases of meningococcal septicaemia. The larger the dose, the higher up the limb the effect. Patients requiring amputation for recovery need no longer be rushed to theatre for emergency surgery. A suitable dose of CaomalideM arrested the disease and ensured that toxins from the diseased extremities could not pass into the bloodstream. The small but steadily growing number of patients requiring quadruple amputations urged medical services toward greater efficiency and the new drug afforded them more time to act and victims a greater chance of survival with more efficient prosthetic limbs.

 

However, a description of the molecular mirror’s suppressant effects inevitably leaked, and was noted by various parties, not all of whom had positive intentions. Unfortunately for its victims, CaomalideM was an easily produced compound which any professional laboratory could manufacture at little expense. Several did.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Paul Harvey founded his web forum Quadrant for amputees, devotees and serious wannabes a decade ago. He and his amputee moderators ran a tight regime. The original aim of the forum was to cater to the wannabe elite who wished to be rid of their limbs, either partially or completely, offering advice on methods, amenable surgeons, life histories and experiences after quadruple amputation with or without prosthetic limbs. New Age faddism was deleted immediately. Quadrant was not a forum where youngsters could exercise their angst about riding a Wave. Genuine wannabes thought of amputation every day, week long, year in year out. The compulsion and fascination was not something which ebbed and flowed like a fashion for nose rings or blond fringes. It was a concrete desire to become reliant on four prostheses or, better still in the minds of some, to shed their limbs completely and rely on the kindness of lovers for mere survival.

 

Harvey did meticulous research on-line. He was a programmer by profession and excelled at what he did. He charged his customers an exorbitant amount of money and delivered prize-winning product, beautiful, effective and technically stunning time after time. He was a voluntary DAK with almost non-existent stumps. These days he balanced in front of his console of keyboards and monitors in a manual wheelchair after having worn above knee prosthetic legs for seven years and two below knee prostheses before them for even longer. He would have his nubs removed at some point, he was sure, but enjoyed his current short stumps too much to want to lose them just yet.

 

His obsession with his ultimate vision of male perfection had led him to start Quadrant. For the first two or three years, it had been a minor site, barely noticed by biid enthusiasts who flocked to Reddit or other semi-hidden forums. Quadrant started with twenty or thirty members, many of them Harvey’s acquaintances, a third of them successful wannabe amputees, the rest men who wished to emulate them. Gradually word spread and Quadrant boasted currently over three hundred members. They were an active and intelligent crowd, posting fantasies and hopes for the future, photo essays of successful amputations, both professional and amateur. Harvey encouraged members to reveal their methods to become amputees and published a detailed description of the ways in which anonymous members had achieved their stumps. A link to the gallery showed amputees using their stumps or prostheses, demonstrating that amputation was its own reward. The disabled members would no longer be encumbered by their alien hands or superfluous legs.

 

Harvey first learned about CaomalideM in a post from an established member who had heard about it from the friend of a friend. The general consensus, as such, was that it might work at increased doses to shut down blood supply to hands and feet resulting in amputation of said body parts. Apparently, the larger the dose, the higher the resultant dead zone. One or two pills might result in loss of fingers and toes. Some members wished to have finger stubs. A higher dose would ensure short finger stumps. More would cause death of tissue above wrists and ankles. A dozen or so might result in short stumps at the shoulder and groin. Perhaps twenty pills would result in complete removal of everything from the torso, leaving smooth skin where human limbs once sprouted. Further experimentation was needed but Harvey was intrigued by the potential of CaomalideM to induce an irreversible condition requiring amputation and decided to not only learn more about it but also acquire some and a couple of eager volunteers. He contacted the member who had alerted him and asked if the foaf might know how to get hold of some of the pills.

 

It took two months but eventually a small packet was delivered to Harvey. It contained three vials each containing a hundred small globular pills. They resembled artificial sweeteners or cake decorations. The sender had included a print-out with various doses and their estimated effects on a person weighing eighty-five kilos, as determined by medical research which had not been made public. Harvey wheeled himself to the lounge and vaulted onto the sofa where he leaned back into the sumptuous cushions and studied the outcome of the secretive testing. CaomalideM was obviously much more potent than he had supposed. Two tablets resulted in fingers being reduced to stubs and the complete loss of all toes. Five ensured forearm stumps and below knee stumps. Seven resulted in long above elbow and above knee stumps, the most popular configuration for Quadrant members and ten pills guaranteed the total loss of all limbs, producing a completely limbless torso. Harvey knew two members who had professed to wanting such severe disablement. He scratched his stumps absent-mindedly and folded the paper neatly. He would later photograph it and make a couple of copies. It was valuable information gained in an irregular manner.

 

Harvey searched through old posts on the Quadrant forum. He was looking for two or three members who had repeatedly expressed their frustration at not having the bodies which they lusted after. One had constructed a home-made guillotine and severed his feet but the resulting stumps were completely unsuitable for prosthetics and the man was unhappily wheelchair-bound. Harvey typed a message to him.

            – Hi Murray! Hope youre doin ok. I want to offer you the opportunity to get new stumps. I know your present stumps arent what you wanted. If you can visit me for a weekend, I have something which might interest you.

 

Someone calling himself Legless Ken had been a member almost since Quadrant’s inception and was forever bemoaning the fact that he still had his hands and feet. He longed for the day when he had prosthetic legs and hooks and had tried to induce sepsis on several occasions, resulting only in livid keloid scars on his calves. And someone who used his real name, Geoffrey Beard, frequently mentioned his jealousy at seeing a DAK at his gym. Despite working on his honed muscular legs for years, Beard insisted he wanted bilateral disarticulations at the knee. Harvey sent similar messages to both Ken and Beard and continued his search for other prospective willing guinea pigs.

 

Beard was the first to reply. He expressed his excitement at the chance of gaining the stumps he craved and volunteered to test anything Harvey had available. With a potential amputee almost bursting through the door, Harvey considered the practical implications of dosing people in his apartment with CaomalideM. How would they be delivered to hospital? Harvey certainly did not want a flotilla of ambulances arriving to his address on a regular basis. The potential amputee should either bring a friend or have one ready. If that was not possible, Harvey considered the possibility of dumping the amputee-to-be in the lobby of a hotel somewhere out of town where he could call for help himself. Somewhere anonymous. If CaomaildeM was all it was said to be, the patient would not be in immediate danger. The artificial sepsis would kill the extremities while maintaining a healthy cardiac system. He had no idea how long the effect would last.

 

Legless Ken and Murray Elliott replied within hours. Ken said he was up for anything as long as it resulted in amputations and Murray expressed interest in the idea. He wanted assurance that his new stumps would be typical viable specimens, capable of allowing him to wear below knee prostheses and an escape from his hated wheelchair. Harvey replied he could promise nothing more than amputations and offered both men alternate weekends to visit. They both volunteered eagerly to arrive the following weekend and Harvey had to suggest Saturday mornings a week and a fortnight hence. Beard could choose his day. He was his own boss, running some kind of gym somewhere.

 

Harvey googled information about CaomalideM. There was nothing. Do you mean CaomalideA, the search engine queried every time. It was a little frustrating. Harvey returned to his coding and was soon immersed in his work. A catheter snaking from his bladder via his penis to a plastic bag allowed him to concentrate on his work without interruption. As an almost completely legless man, taking a piss was a major operation. Harvey did not need a catheter for any medical reason. It was a convenience, nothing more. Harvey enjoyed its physical resistance when his penis erected at various times during the day. Sometimes he fondled his stumps to encourage an erection. It never failed to bring satisfaction. This current iteration of his amputations was the most erogenously sensitive. His extreme stumps terminated very close to his genitals but were now too short to be able to massage his penis as his previous stumps had done. For many weeks after his last amputations, Harvey had sat programming, moving his truncated stumps up and down in an attempt to masturbate. It was always unsuccessful but Harvey loved his sensitive new stumps which opened up a unique world of ecstasy. He sometimes considered having his nubs amputated in order to turn his entire lower body into an erogenous zone but was too reliant on his wheelchair for mobility and stability to succumb to the ultimate. A torso stump would come with its own problems as well as advantages.

 

Legless Ken was the first to arrive. He was an excitable man of thirty-five, prone to faux pas, never keeping a friend for more than a couple of months, turning people off by inopportune comments. He was slender, balding but fairly acceptable as far as his appearance was concerned.

            – I want you to realise, Ken, that apart from the fact that these pills work, no-one knows exactly what the results will be. It could be that you’ll end up with below knee stumps and below elbow stumps but it might just happen that we get the dose wrong and you lose more. Or maybe less. You might lose just your fingers and toes.

            – I don’t care. I have thought about being a quadruple amputee for thirty years. I don't care if I have knees and elbows, as long as I keep a bit of stump so I can wear artificial limbs.

            – So you really don’t care about the extent of your stumps?

            – No. Any kind of stump is fine.

            – Well, I suggest we try for amputations below the major joints first.

            – Alright, I agree. Let’s try for that.

 

Harvey asked for Ken’s weight and calculated the dosage. Five pills should do the job. Neither of them had any idea how long the process would take. Ken had an accomplice waiting for him in a nearby hotel, presently flirting with the barman in the bar. He would be allowed to drive only after his first three beers had burned off and assumed it would be late morning before Ken turned up for his ride back home.

 

Ken swallowed his five pills with a slug of water. The last time he had weighed himself, he was sixty-five kilos. That was three months ago. Now he weighed only fifty-eight. He had inadvertently set himself up for an overdose. Time would show the effects. About twelve hours should be enough. He was on Harvey’s sofa chatting about various sightings he had seen recently and behind the scenes rumours about other forum members. Harvey sat opposite him, listening at first with interest and later with increasing tedium. Harvey decided to tolerate it. He was making mental notes of Ken’s progress and asked questions about the effects of the drug at twenty minute intervals. For the first hour, Ken reported no change until he asked for a tissue to wipe his brow. For some reason, he was sweating. As he took the tissue from Harvey’s hand, his eyes expanded and he stared at his fingers.

            – I can’t feel my fingers! I’ve just noticed they’ve gone quite numb. It was only when I tried to take the tissue that I noticed.

            – Ah!  That’ll be the drug starting to take effect. You can still move your fingers OK though, can’t you?

            – Oh yes. No problem there. I just can’t feel anything. It’s just as if they weren’t there. Oh, the years I have wished to have finger stumps! You can’t imagine.

Harvey let him chatter on. Within half an hour, his fingertips began to darken and the contrast between his skin and the tissue under his fingernails became more obvious. Harvey pointed it out first.

            – Oh! I guess it’s taking effect!  How exciting this is! You can’t imagine!

Harvey nodded and smiled.

 

Ken quietened over the next hour unless answering one of Harvey’s enquiries into how he felt. They watched the imperceptible growth of dying flesh with appropriate interest or concern. Ken was no longer able to move his fingers and his wrists were almost rigid. Unseen, the situation with his feet kept pace. His feet were dead weight, his ankles almost completely rigid. But Ken remained on the sofa. It was odd that he had not requested a toilet break. Perhaps it was a side effect of the drug.

 

Ken’s phone rang at five in the afternoon. His friend was becoming impatient. He was still in the hotel, sipping one cola after another, waiting to be summoned to Harvey’s address to collect the invalid. Ken made an attempt to fish his phone out of his shirt pocket but succeeded only in moving a discoloured and fixed forearm to a different angle. He looked at Harvey in alarm. He had not realised that he would become disabled quite so quickly.

            – I don’t like it, Paul! I can’t move my elbows or anything! Oh, what am I going to do? Can you help me?

Harvey was stunned by the man’s distress. His paralysis was a sure sign that his tissues were dying and that amputations were in his imminent future. Instead he was alarmed by the situation.

            – Calm down, Ken. Everything’s under control.

Harvey rolled close to the sofa and leaned across to pluck the beeping phone from Ken’s pocket.

            – Shall I answer? OK. Paul Harvey speaking for Ken Lambert. Hello?

            – Oh, hi. I’m expecting a call from Ken. I’ve been waiting for several hours, in fact.

            – Are you his assistant? You’re waiting to take him to a hospital, are you?

            – That was the general idea.

            – Well, actually, I think Ken is about ready. If you make your way here, you can pick Ken up right now.

            – Alright, thanks. I’m on my way.

 

Ken had attempted to rise from the sofa after Harvey returned his phone but was completely unable to use his knees. He was surprised, shocked and then overcome by the rapidity of his disablement. When his assistant knocked on the door twenty minutes later, he was weeping quietly. Harvey was also surprised and confused by the apparent immediate onset of buyer’s remorse, but had no sympathy for the man. He wheeled to the door and looked into the ruddy features and bleary eyes of Ken’s pick-up.

            – Are you here for Ken? OK, come and help me move him. There’s a wheelchair in my closet. Let me show you. Come with me.

The pick-up trundled the old wheelchair into the lounge and looked at his despondent friend. His arms were a shocking shade of bluish purple. Helping a little to nudge the figure into the wheelchair, Ken was seated with his chin resting on his chest, unable to speak. His pick-up muttered his thanks to Harvey and wheeled his mate out to his car where he manhandled Ken into the back seat. He quickly returned the wheelchair and climbed into the driver’s seat and made an exit towards the nearest hospital.

 

Murray arrived next weekend, pushing himself vigorously in his wheelchair. His stumps were enclosed inside the sewn-up legs of his jeans. He greeted Harvey and they went to the lounge where Harvey explained the effects of CaomalideM. In order to ensure the removal of Murray’s useless stumps, he was also going to forgo his hands. Murray informed him that he was perfectly aware of that and had originally planned to sever both hands but decided to test his guillotine on his legs first. That had been three years ago and it was now time to correct the misjudged amputations and get the job done properly. Harvey studied the chart with Murray and they decided that five pills should do the trick. Below elbow stumps long enough to wield a pair of hooks and below knee stumps just long enough for a pair of short prossies. Murray was a geologist and knew he could continue working as a quadruple amputee even if he could no longer participate in expeditions. He had recently returned from Iceland where he remained in the van and imagined himself moving through recent lava flows on a pair of steel prostheses. He was a studious man devoid of easy chit-chat. He swallowed five pills and relaxed on Harvey’s sofa.

 

Once again, the dosage was wrong. Neither man yet understood the relationship between body weight and the final extent of amputation. Five pills for a double amputee expecting stumps below the elbows and knees was an overdose. Murray’s partner called for him at eight o’clock in the evening and carried him to their car, leaving the wheelchair behind with Harvey’s consent. It could be collected before Murray was released from hospital.

 

Geoffrey Beard arrived on a Friday evening. He stood two metres tall and sported a completely bald head and a huge straggly blond beard with a very impressive handlebar moustache, thick and perfectly symmetrical. He took Harvey’s hand into his own to shake. His touch was firm and gentle. Harvey’s own hand almost disappeared into Beard’s grip.

            – Come in. It’s great to see you.

            – Well, thanks for having me. I’ve been looking forward to an opportunity like this for half my life. I can’t believe I might be a quad this time tomorrow.

            – I don’t understand how someone who has obviously put thousands of hours into honing their body to look like you do can want to lose their limbs. Are you sure, Geoff [jef]?

            – Of course I’m sure. Why else would I be here? I want to stand on artificial legs with big beefy stumps formed from my calves and boast a pair of hooks with a muscular-looking pair of sockets below elbow. Does that make sense?

            – How long have you suffered from biid?

            – What? Twenty years? I don’t know. Since I was a pup. All this body building stuff is just an attempt to disguise myself from myself. Does that make any sense? When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see the real Geoff. The real Geoff has four stumps, nicely rounded, long enough to shove an artificial limb onto. And after that, I can just carry on with my body building as normal. You do know I own a gym, don’t you? I don’t have to look exactly like my customers to be a success.

He grabbed his beard with a fist and straightened it.

            – If I had artificial legs and a pair of hooks, I might even be able to attract more clientele. You know, people who are curious to see a muscle guy like me with a pair of hooks, or whatever.

            – Alright, just so you understand that when you swallow the pills, you’re going to lose your hands and feet and maybe more.

            – That’s what I’ve always wanted. That’s why I’m here.

They studied the chart comparing dosage with amputations and decided that six pills would probably produce the desired results. Harvey was prepared to have Geoff sleep on the sofa overnight and after discussing limblessness for a couple of hours, Harvey retreated to his computer room to check on Quadrant. There was more discussion about CaomalideM but no-one seemed to have first-hand experience of it. Quite possibly, Harvey was the first to distribute the drug to the public, as it were.

 

Beard’s limbs died overnight. He slept from about eleven until seven. Harvey was awake before six, as always, and checked on his latest guest. The hands were black and the discolouration appeared to extend a little up the arms. It was difficult to assess the state of Geoff’s legs but from what he could see, he would lose both feet at the very least. Geoff woke after Harvey had finished his breakfast and called out to him.

            – Good morning, Geoff. How are you feeling?

            – I’m fine, thanks.

He lifted a black hand and the other. His elbows still worked.

            – Christ! This will have to come off! And this one. I’m going to have hooks, Paul! Ah, that's fantastic! Can you call my mate and he can come and collect me?

Harvey looked at the giant squashed onto his sofa.

            – You’re going to get your BK legs, too. Well done, Geoff. You’ve done it.

Harvey called Geoff’s contact’s number and within half an hour, Geoff and his equally muscular boyfriend were on the way to the local hospital for four amputations.

 

Harvey was impatient to know the results of the first three experiments with CaomalideM. He checked Quadrant every day, sometimes several times, but there was no news from Ken, Murray or Geoff. There were, however, reports from similar experiments abroad on the net. A Swiss ski instructor had lost his limbs below his elbows and knees and intended to specialise in instructing disabled skiers. A Swedish interior designer had exchanged her limbs for stubs at her upper thigh and shoulders. Two Polish lads had dared each other to neck a dozen pills each and, according to hearsay, were now utterly limbless torsos tended by nuns in a sanatorium in the Tatras. A Prague tram driver was allowed to continue in his job after proving he could still drive a tram with four prostheses. A young French farmer proved he could still run his family’s ancient vineyard on two stubbies and with one hook projecting directly from a short arm stump at his shoulder. The accompanying photograph showed him standing, stubbies akimbo, facing the family’s St. Bernard eye‑to‑eye at the same level.

 

Harvey gave considerable thought to offering the biid pill to other Quadrant members. The fact that it theoretically affected both upper and lower limbs simultaneously and equally was a turn off for some who would prefer to spend many years transitioning to quadruple ampdom. Learning to live with an artificial limb was a fulfilling pleasure which could be repeated with the loss of another limb. Losing four at the same time robbed wannabes of the years enjoyed adapting to ever greater disability. But others would grab the chance. Four months after his amputations, a series of photographs posted by Geoffrey Beard and the resultant clamour tilted Harvey’s policy in favour of further distribution. Geoff’s photos showed him standing outside his gym in a one-piece, arm stumps spread wide and standing on basic below-knee prostheses. His muscular stumps were cupped in black carbon sockets and his lower legs were mere inch diameter pylons terminating in short steel feet. They looked extremely incongruous compared with the man’s impressive physique. Other shots showed him wrestling with various pieces of equipment inside. His new spindly artificial legs were visible in every photo but his arm stumps were bare. He had a smart new pair of hooks but never wore them at the gym.

 

Quadrant members congratulated Geoff on his achievements and several asked how he had managed four perfect amputations. This was where the difficulty began. Geoff was reluctant to reveal that he had taken CaomalideM. Harvey was reluctant too. It was very much a personal matter, tangled up with possibly severe legal penalties for knowingly injuring another. Appealing to the law by admitting to life-long biid was also out of the question. It was still not a recognised medical condition. Once again, Harvey compiled a list of members who were most insistent on knowing Geoff’s tantalising secret and swore them to secrecy before revealing his stash of CaomalideM. Several more enthusiastic and frustrated members begged him for the chance to access the biid pill.

 

And once again, a  regular stream of Quadrant members arrived at Harvey’s home, usually at the weekend, occasionally for an overnighter. The most popular configuration by far was the loss of lower legs with forearm stumps. But there were several who wished for more severe disablement. Harvey discussed their situations, trying to ensure that the resultant four short stumps would not pose a hindrance to the wannabe’s future existence and that there was guaranteed access to prosthetic limbs. Although nothing pleased him more than seeing well-earned artificial limbs being enjoyed by handsome virile amputees, Harvey remained wary of being indirectly responsible for causing catastrophic disability when it had not been specifically requested.

 

Harvey had no way of knowing, but Ken Lambert was in just such a situation. Ken had clearly stated that any kind of stump was fine. He currently boasted two long stumps extending from his shoulders and two long above-knee stumps. However, he would have preferred to keep his elbows and knees. He was in continual mental turmoil because of his disability which he regarded as far more than he had wanted. His boyfriend had left him after a few weeks and Ken was now reliant on visits by a nurse and social services for mere survival. He had been fitted with prosthetic arms and hooks which he was uninterested in learning to use and sat in an old manual wheelchair which he could not operate with his hooks.

 

Murray Elliott had fared better and had recently started posting again. His stumps were also shorter than he had expected. He now boasted disarticulations of his elbows and knees and had been fitted with a pair of stubbies – circular plastic and rubber feet at the end of black carbon fibre sockets – and arm prostheses of the same material terminating in a left worker’s hook and a right Number Five. He had made a trip to northern Spain, the Basque country, to research geological formations on the coast and had received much admiration from his professional colleagues on maintaining his lust for life despite his tragic recent disablement. Murray loved clambering over rocky outcrops on his stubbies, powered by his powerful thighs inside their rigid carbon sockets. He discovered he could use his hooks instead of specific tools to manipulate some rock samples. He posted three photos from the expedition showing him working alongside colleagues but without emphasising his prosthetic limbs. Personally, he was overjoyed to be rid of his useless stumps, left untreated after the guillotine treatment.

 

Local hospitals had not yet noticed an increase in the number quadruple amputations due to Harvey’s CaomalideM. There was a steady stream of meningococcal septicaemia victims which was appropriated to climate change and the associated increasing incidence of the disease. Most of the victims were young, in their twenties, and Quadrant’s wannabes usually fit the demographic perfectly. One or two surgeons had noticed that Harvey’s customers did not exhibit other typical traits relating to meningitis but these had to be ignored in the urgent efforts to amputate dead and dying limbs in order to save lives.

 

In the six months following the resumption of Harvey’s operation, sixteen Quadrant members lost part of or most of their limbs. Harvey had learned more about the importance of the correct dosage with regard to body weight and few volunteers were ultimately disappointed with their new stumps. Many were far more enthusiastic about getting their own artificial arms and hooks and regarded loss of their feet as a mere incidental side-effect. Two more stumps were neither here nor there. There were far fewer leg stump enthusiasts who were as nonchalant about losing their hands, although two members professed not to care. They wanted short thigh stumps and got them, along with short stumps at their shoulders. They later posted a series of photos showing their progress over a year, progressing from stubbies to full-length artificial legs, naked steel pylons to save weight. One wore cosmetic artificial arms, the other boasted short tanned stumps at his hairy shoulders.

 

Several other men caused Harvey the most concern. They were the men who professed the desire to be completely limbless. They usually arrived at Harvey’s home with their life partners and went to considerable lengths to persuade Harvey that the future torso would be cared for and loved. As was typical of a man with his personal preferences for artificial limbs, Harvey pointed out the prosthetic solutions available to a limbless torso, which was mainly confined to sitting in a torso socket with a flat base. Otherwise the torso would be horizontal, unable to sit on a stumpless pelvis or to balance with non-existent arms. The future torsos assured Harvey of the perfect peace and deep satisfaction in achieving utter limblessness and maximum reliance on a lover. The men were lucid, well-educated, socially popular and desperate to have smooth bodies bereft of interfering appendages. Harvey gave three men a dozen tablets each and each time a trio of men watched with excitement and interest as the unwanted limbs gradually darkened and blackened until all four limbs were certain for disarticulation. Two of the customers ejaculated in excitement because of the utter uselessness and immobility of their blackened limbs before they were even out the door.

 

One Quadrant member was an especially interesting case. He arrived midweek in a handsome suit and introduced himself as Brett Burt and shook Harvey’s hand, proffering a worker’s hook on his right arm stump. His right leg had been replaced with a steel peg leg, jointed at the knee. He was extremely good-looking, exactly the kind of man Harvey enjoyed seeing most of all.

            – As you can see, Paul, both my amputations are quite high. Originally I intended to go for below elbow and below knee, but above knee fascinated me more and I later realised that a complete arm prosthesis was actually more to my liking. I could still use a hook, after all, which was my main goal. I have been an amputee now for thirteen years and I would really like to experience life as a quadruple amputee, so I rather hope that one or two of your pills will be enough to see an end to my hand and foot.

            – I can’t promise anything. You have to understand, Brett, that the mere fact that you are already an amputee affects the way the drug wreaks its destruction.

            – How odd of you to describe it like that!

            – It’s true, though. It’s very difficult to judge the correct dose to gain the desired stumps. Recently we have been fairly lucky. Most of the guys want short below elbow stumps and don’t care about the loss of their legs. I remember myself feeling that a couple of BK prossies were practically the same as having my own feet. I never felt disabled. I had to go above knee before I had any challenge from my prosthetics. Still, I learned to walk on two AK legs and then it was time to go one step further. And here I am now, with inch long stumps.

            – And you feel fulfilled with them?

            – I wish I had them ten years ago!

            – I’m happy for you. Congratulations. But I don’t want to go so far. I can use my present prostheses just fine. I have a well-paid position with an insurance company and there is nothing I do that I could not continue with four artificial limbs. But I would prefer my new stumps to be considerably longer than the ones I originally created.

            – So you are a voluntary amputee.

            – Yes, of course. My stumps were done in Hungary. I could go back there but international travel is so much more complicated now and Hungary is a long way to go by train. So here I am. What do you say, Paul? Are you willing to allow me to gain my new short stumps?

Harvey looked at Brett’s beautiful face, the perfect raised eyebrows above the dark eyes searching and pleading for a positive answer. He looked at Brett’s left hand cupping the farmer’s hook as naturally as two hands were clasped.

            – Very well. I think four pills will be enough. Are you concerned about the length of your stumps?

            – Not really. I know the risk, Paul. I am quite aware of the danger, if such it is, of an overdose. I want stumps below my joints but I will be content with whatever results, assuming that I can still be fitted with prostheses. They are my greatest love, Paul. Not my stumps. I want new artificial limbs which complement the beauty of the ones I already use. I’m sure you understand.

Harvey was infatuated with Brett and his open honesty. He wheeled to the kitchen and took five pills from the refrigerator.

            – Why five?

            – I leave it to you. I believe you will have long stumps if you take three. Short stumps if you take five. I cannot promise that five will not result in the loss of your knee and elbow. I hope you understand, Brett. I would hate for you to lose the chance to wear the prostheses you want.

            – I think four will be enough.

            – I agree.

Brett quaffed four pills with water and continued his conversation with Harvey.

 

Harvey and Brett learned the hard way that CaomalideM did not respect phantom limbs. Within an hour, the first effects of the drug were visible on Brett’s stumps. His fingers were numb but he touched the tips of his stumps ruefully, realising that he would lose them in addition to whatever CaomalideM left of his natural limbs.

            – I’m sorry, Brett. We did discuss this possibility.

            – Yes, I know. I’m not blaming you. Don’t think that. I hope this doesn’t end up with two disarts. I don’t mind two shorter stumps this side as long as the other two are long enough to use with artificial limbs.

            – You’re going to be in a wheelchair for a while, whatever happens. I hope you’ve got everything arranged for a month or so of disability.

            – Yeah, no problems there, I hope. I have an enthusiastic young assistant at home who, to tell the truth, would have liked to join me. I’ve never met anyone who’s a greater admirer of prosthetic limbs. He doesn’t seem to care about stumps. It’s the hardware he’s keen on. I let him have one of my spare legs when he masturbates. He makes love to it.

            – Extraordinary! I’ve heard of similar cases, where the amputation is completely incidental to the primary goal of wearing artificial arms and hooks.

            – Depending how this turns out and how well I use my new kit, I might send him along one of these days. Oh, it won’t be this year! Are you going to have a supply of that Caomalide after the current supply runs out?

            – I’m not sure. I got this batch anonymously from a complete stranger, although I had started enquiries about getting some. I dare say my contact could arrange for some more. I don’t know what its shelf-life is like but a little seems to go a long way. If you don’t tarry too long, your assistant could have a dose from the current batch.

            – I’ll give it some consideration.

            – Would you be able to cope with a disabled helper?

            – Paul, it wouldn’t be me who needs to cope. It would be the boy. He wants hooks more urgently than anyone else I’ve ever heard of and if he got a pair of BK jobbies into the bargain, he’d be on cloud nine.

            – Great! Send him along! How are you feeling?  

            – Fine. How long does this normally take?

            – Let’s give it another four hours and then I’ll call your boy to collect you. Which hospital are you going to?

            – Mount Pleasant first. They might well refer us to some other place nearby, of course.

            – I’m not sure if they would send you somewhere else in your condition. You’re going to be a priority case but you’ll be safe for a while. CaomalideM is used for arresting septic toxicity.

            – Is it really? I had no idea.

 

An attentive, bright-eyed young man collected Brett. If he was the assistant Brett had spoken of, he was a lucky man. Harvey imagined the chap with four prosthetic limbs and hoped he would be able to help achieve the goal. Brett was prioritised and his natural limbs were truncated to leave him with ten centimetres of stump below his knee and elbow. His existing stumps were monitored closely. There was severe discoloration but an ultrasound examination revealed basically healthy tissue throughout the stumps. Surgeons did their best to ensure that the repeat amputee had every opportunity to continue life with well-functioning stumps and artificial limbs.

 

Brett returned to work two months later brandishing a pair of Hosmer Fives and a matching below‑knee prosthesis for his new leg stump. His old stumps had been permanently numbed which posed no greater problem than the requirement for regular careful inspection. His old prostheses still fit and his assistant spent ecstatic hours every week tending to Brett’s stumps and donning the four limbs. He repeatedly insisted he would be able to continue in Brett’s service with his own hooks and begged Brett to allow him access to CaomalideM. Early in the new year, Brett finally agreed. Personal assistant Stony Tony, real name Anthony Stone, was due to arrive on his birthday on the last day of January for the best birthday present of his life, the destruction of his hands and feet.

 

Autumn was quiet after the first burst of excitement. Quadrant members who had undergone CaomalideM amputations reappeared on the forum describing their experiences of returning to work or their vocations with four artificial limbs. Three new threads were created for users to share hints and tips about stump care and their experiences with hooks and various mechanical hands. It went without saying that none of the new amputees or recently re-amputated wanted to use bionic hands or computerised knees or ankles. New videos of men walking and performing various tasks appeared regularly and quickly chalked up hundreds of views, many more than the total number of Quadrant members. Obviously, the videos were being downloaded several times by some viewers.

 

Two weeks before Christmas, Quadrant member Leonard Waters sent an email requesting a large dose of CaomalideM in order to lose his limbs completely or reduce them to short stumps. Harvey replied and explained the uncertainty associated with the doses and recommended that it was perhaps better to err on the side of caution. Stumps could be shortened later but never lengthened nor regenerated. It was a fatuous statement but relevant under the circumstances. Once the biid pills had been digested, there was no return. Only time would tell the permanent results.

 

Harvey opened his door to find Waters seated in a wheelchair accompanied by a hooded assistant. Both men were clad, drenched, in black leather. Harvey welcomed them and the assistant pushed Waters into the lounge, positioned him facing the sofa and retired to stand in view of his master behind the sofa. Waters presented the image of a totally disabled man. His legs were encased in leather and steel kafos which extended from his groin to the heels of his engineer boots. His leather trousers boasted an incongruously large codpiece. His arms were similarly immobilised by a pair of leather and steel arm braces from his shoulders to his fingertips. His hands were in rigid leather open-fingered gloves, part of the ensemble, preventing any kind of hand movement. His wrists were rigid, as were his elbows. He could move his arms only at his shoulders but chose not to.

            – May I smoke, Mr Harvey?

            – You may but I would prefer it if we went to my patio if you wish to smoke.

            – Perfect. Show me the way. Help me, son.

The assistant was immediately present. Harvey spun himself around and crossed the room to the French door leading out onto his patio. It was cold and breezy. The assistant fumbled with a cylindrical leather tube attached to his thigh and withdrew a magnificent Oom Paul bent pipe of astonishing size. It was as long as a forearm and its bowl was the height of a hand. It had already been filled with a quantity of tobacco. The assistant held it carefully so that Waters could clench the broad mouthpiece between his teeth and positioned the pipe to rest on his master’s chest. He waited for permission to light the tobacco with a butane lighter which sent a hissing jet of flame towards the bowl of the pipe. Waters sucked and exhaled smoke and expressed his satisfaction with a glance at his assistant, who he had referred to only as ‘son’.

 

Harvey looked at the paralysed cripple. The steel bracing along his limbs caught reflections of light from the lounge. Light was fading on an already gloomy afternoon. The assistant watched his master attentively who sucked on his pipe. Even as a guest for only a few minutes, the man’s dominance was indisputable. Harvey waited silently for him to satisfy his craving for nicotine. The situation had already answered several of his questions. Waters glanced at his assistant who reached for the enormous pipe and, to Harvey’s astonishment, inserted the mouthpiece through the slot in his leather hood and puffed regularly to keep the tobacco alight.

 

            – Thank you for allowing me to smoke. I find such pleasure in a pipe.

            – That is a very impressive example. I have never seen one like it before.

            – I have them made to my own designs in the United States. One artisan has specialised in over-large pipes and I rather fear that I take advantage of him. I have over a dozen of his enormous pipes and I love every one of them.

He threw a glance at his assistant, who returned the pipe to his master. Waters inhaled on it and heaved a plume of pungent smoke into the evening air. He spoke around the broad mouthpiece.

            – We are here to discuss amputation. More specifically, the biid pill, as it is jocularly known. It will not surprise you to learn that I wish to be limbless. I emulate limblessness with these steel braces but it may surprise you to learn that I am completely able-bodied. Theo here tends to my every need and I tend to his. He is completely mute, you see. His teeth were extracted and his tongue removed shortly after he entered my service. It was his own desire, you understand. I demanded nothing more than his silence but was satisfied to pay for his alteration. His mouth is an empty void and he loves it very much. Don’t you, son?

Theo nodded and bowed his head.

            – Take this.

Theo took the Oom Paul from Waters and returned it to the leather tube along his thigh.

            – He is an obedient man. We have agreed that my simulated limblessness should be actualised. I wish my limbs to be removed leaving nubs. I wish to avoid disarticulation as neither of us like the appearance of a completely empty groin or shoulder. Some kind of residual limb, a stub to insert into a cosmetic limb, will be more than sufficient. On the rare occasions when I need to be physically present in my company headquarters, it is more than enough for me to appear to have a full complement of limbs even though I am in a wheelchair and Theo handles all writing for me. We have done so for the past five years and the system works most satisfactorily. Now we have the opportunity to sculpt my body into the configuration we both feel we need.

 

Harvey was fascinated by the intricate relationship between Waters and his assistant Theo. One had lost the power of speech for the other, who would relinquish his limbs to please Theo.

            – I want you to understand the risks involved in attempting such high amputations. We can work out precise theoretical doses but the end results are never guaranteed.

            – I understand. Personally, it is of little import to me whether my limbs are braced or removed. The amount of stump is of relevance only to my prosthetist who will have to work with what I have to provide a convincing pair of artificial cosmetic limbs.

            – I understand. I recommend six pills. I think a man of your physical size might need six rather than five, which, I believe, would leave practical stumps at your shoulders and hips.

            – That would not be the end of the world, as only Theo would see them but we have agreed that minimalism is the ideal.

            – I leave it to you.

            – Excellent. Shall we begin?

            – Of course. Let’s go inside and get comfortable.

            – If you don’t mind, I would like to be naked during the process. I do have a pair of shorts I could wear, of course.

Harvey was surprised that such an imposing figure would wish to appear so vulnerable for several hours.

            – I don’t mind at all. It will be a long evening. Are you sure you will be comfortable?

            – My comfort is of no importance. We wish to watch the drug taking its effect on my limbs.

            – As you wish.

Theo knelt and began to unbuckle his master’s long leg braces. He worked quickly and symmetrically, switching from the left leg to the right as he progressed. He unclipped the braces from Waters’ knee high leather boots and placed them standing in a corner of the room. He moved his master forward with gentle pressure and removed the metal-studded leather jacket which was his master’s daily costume. Waters lifted his braced arms above his head to allow the jacket’s removal and dropped them into his lap. Harvey studied the thick and rigid forearms moulded into rigid individual digits for the man’s hands. Theo began their removal and set them to one side. Harvey noticed that the braces would very likely fit Theo too. Perhaps he would wear his master’s orthopaedic equipment when Waters was devoid of limbs.

 

Waters was wearing a leather polo neck shirt which was the next to disappear. Waters’ chest and belly were smattered with grey hair but in good trim. Finally, the leather trousers. Theo tugged to remove the boots and opened his master’s belt and loosened the upper rim of the codpiece. Waters used his hands to support himself as Theo pulled the trousers off him. Waters was naked and Theo fetched a pair of custom-made leather underpants from the bag hanging on the back of Waters’ wheelchair. Harvey looked at Waters’ crotch and understood why the codpiece was the size it was. The man’s penis was the largest he had ever seen, in person or in pornographic images online. It was as thick as a man’s wrist and the member, glistening with precum, uncurled into life as blood returned and thoughts of stumps and prosthetic limbs enlivened it. It rose to a height unimagined, twitched and fell forward slowly to land on Waters’ body, the glans resting between his nipples.

 

Theo lifted his master’s legs and pulled the leather underwear up to the knees. He waited for a signal from his master. After four minutes, Waters nodded and Theo lifted the enormous flaccid penis and placed it between Waters’ thighs. He carefully fed it into a long pocket in the front of the shorts. Waters lifted himself up to allow Theo to pull the shorts over his buttocks. His arms dropped to his side and remained motionless. The leather clad penis rested along Water’s thighs, almost reaching his knees. It was the last evening when such a thing was possible.

 

One other matter interested Harvey. He wanted to see Theo’s face.

            – Do you mind if I borrow Theo for a couple of minutes? I need some help with something in my bedroom.

            – Do as our host asks, son. Don’t be long.

Harvey reached out a hand to Theo and guided him to his bedroom. There was nothing for him to do.

            – I want to see your face under the hood, Theo. Would you take it off for me, just for a moment?

Theo had been specifically forbidden from removing his hood for anyone but remembered the words ‘Do as our host asks’. He reached around the back of his neck and loosened the lacing which held his hood tight against his face. He pulled the hood off and faced Harvey who stared in wonder at one of the most handsome faces he had seen for many months. The eyebrows were thick, the eyes luminescent green, the nose perfectly proportioned and the sunken lips were covered by a magnificent dark walrus moustache which hinted at a slight grin. His high cheekbones showed the extent of the man’s beard growth. Most young men would kill to sport such extensive stubble. Theo uttered a quiet sound, its intonation rising.

            – I don’t understand, Theo. Thank you. Let’s go back.

Theo replaced his hood. Harvey helped tighten the laces and hugged Theo before they returned to the lounge.

            – I had better get the pills. One moment, please.

Harvey brought eight pills and explained again how three, four, six and eight would probably affect Waters. He was still undecided between possessing a limbless torso or a body with short stumps on which he could still balance to sit and effect movement in his cosmetic arms. He swallowed six. Theo kneeled facing him, his beautiful eyes attentive for anything his master signalled.

 

Waters fell asleep after four hours. It was the first time a wannabe had done so. The night was already late. Theo did not dare wake his master nor did Harvey feel any urgency to do so. The drug always had its effect to the limit of its potency and nothing could prevent it. The resulting destruction was always confined to below its effective range. Toxins could not leach beyond it and the rest of the body was safe for the immediate future. Harvey joined Theo on the floor and occasionally touched the hood over the man’s head and face. Theo let a guttural purr of pleasure sound in the otherwise silent night. Harvey wondered if the void in the man’s mouth had anything to do with the massive penis in front of them.

 

The men waited together until Waters awoke at five. They had watched his limbs discolour. Now his legs were purple and the same colour extended almost to his shoulders. It would be a triumph of medical skill if anything of the man’s arms remained. Waters had already stated that it was immaterial how much, if any, stump remained.

 

Once again, Theo removed his master’s shorts and began to replace them with the leather trousers. This time, Waters did not attempt to raise himself, neither could he have done so. His arms were dead, as were his legs. Theo fed the immobile dead flesh into the trousers, in exactly the same way as he had always done. Harvey lifted the body by the armpits for Theo.

            – Just give me my jacket, son. Don’t bother with the shirt. We’d better get going, don’t you think?

The two men manhandled Waters into his wheelchair and out into the back of the small electric van which was Waters’ main method of transport. Theo bowed deeply to Harvey and sat in the driver’s seat. The vehicle’s lights flashed and it emitted a whine until it slowly accelerated in the direct of Mount Pleasant Hospital. Waters’ legs were disarticulated at the hip and four centimetres of humerus remained at his shoulders. His shirts would not droop. Three weeks later, Theo drove him home and made love to his master’s stumps. Waters’ erect penis towered with excitement as he watched his assistant adjust the mouth opening of his leather hood.

 

Theo experimented with his master’s leg and arm braces. He found the adapted boots a little large for his feet but the kafos were of a suitable length with the knee joint at the correct height. He was able to don only one of the arm braces. Someone else would have to don the other arm for him, as he had done many times for his master. Unfortunately his master was unable to help. The masculine cosmetic arms with the broad handsome hands were completely inert, intended only as a psychological boost for an amputee who disliked his altered body image. Leonard Waters wore four and allowed his penis to rest between his plastic thighs. He fully approved of Theo’s transformation and enjoyed watching his newly crippled assistant preparing meals and tending to housework on their behalf.

 

At the end of January, as arranged, Anthony Stone arrrived bearing news and greetings from his life companion, Brett Burt.

            – Hello Tony!  Happy birthday! Good to see you again.

            – Thanks. It’s good to be here. Brett sends his best wishes and hopes that we might have a get-together sometime after my recovery.

            – When you’re back on your prosthetic feet. Yes, I look forward to it. How is Brett?

            – Fine. I’ve never known him to be so cheerful and optimistic – not that he was miserable before, of course. You’ll see him later. He’s coming to pick me up. He’s had his new prosthetics for two weeks.

            – So he’s driving again? That must make your life easier. I take it he’s out of the wheelchair.

            – Yes. He’s adapted very well to using two hooks, which is what I expected and is concentrating on walking on two prostheses. The new below knee is a big help with walking. Luckily he was able to keep his above knee pros but if you remember, it doesn’t have a computerised knee so he’s still a little slow.

            – I bet he has a remarkable limp.

            – Yes! I love to see him using the artificial legs. And with any luck, I’ll have my own very soon.

            – Indeed. Would you like to get started? Tell me again what configuration you’re aiming for.

            – I want hooks. Hands off halfway up my forearms. It’s the one thing I have always wanted. It’s such an emphatic statement of permanent disability.

            – You’ll have artificial legs too, remember. The drug works on the extremities. There’s no way to pick and choose.

            – I know. I’m perfectly prepared for a pair of below knee prosthetics. I intend learning to walk on short peg legs.

            – With below knee stumps, that’s perfectly possible. I hope you follow through with that. I’d like to see you walking on peg legs swinging a pair of hooks.

            – So do I.

Harvey and Tony Stone studied the ever-growing list of customers who had used CaomalideM – how many pills and what the effects were. Tony was slim and of average height. Harvey recommended three pills which would certainly guarantee loss of hands and feet. The length of the residual limbs was the huge unknown but the low dosage ought not extend as far as Tony’s elbows and knees.

 

Tony was restless, impatient to see the first signs of limb death. Harvey had noticed before that low dosages tended to work more slowly. After an hour, Tony reported numbness in his hands and toes. The effects gradually strengthened and as the third hour began, discolouration was well under way and his hands were immovable. He had formed loose fists and they were the final position his hands would take. He calmed when he lost feeling in his lower legs, imagining himself with basic steel pylons instead of flesh and blood, balancing on two rubber ferrules instead of a pair of trainers. The discoloration deepened and crept towards his joints. At the start of the sixth hour, the advance had obviously stopped. The lower third of Tony’s forearms were an alarming shade of bluish purple. The colour of anoxic flesh, the toxic colour of gangrene.

            – Would you like me to notify Brett now? Are you ready for the surgeon?

            – I think so, don’t you? It seems to have stabilised.

Harvey picked Tony’s phone up and asked for the password. He sent a text message to Brett, not wanting to talk with the man at present. Expecting some kind of notification at any moment, Brett tapped a smilie with the tip of a hook and touched the send icon. He rose to his prosthetic feet and rapped on his trouser pocket to check for the sound of his keys. He lurched out of the flat and descended by lift to the underground car park, where their white eMini awaited. Brett arranged his hooks into the adaptors and guided the car towards Harvey’s home.

 

Tony’s amputations were undertaken a few hours after his arrival at hospital. His symmetrical residual limbs were bandaged and he was wheeled to a ward to recover. All four stumps were exactly the length he had hoped for. He was going to be a happy man when he regained consciousness and saw how functional his artificial limbs would be.

 

Tony was the last applicant for several weeks. Probably all Quadrant members who both wanted and dared to undergo treatment with CaomalideM had already done so. The forum’s image gallery boasted dozens of photos of quadruple amputees with and without prosthetic limbs, dressed and naked. None of them sported bionic limbs. The artificial legs were all the most basic steel pylons with mechanical knee joints and the arms all terminated in standard or farmer’s hooks. One limbless torso was depicted in a harness attached to his boy’s back. The torso faced backwards with a broad grin visible under his beard. Another series of photographs showed an evening of cigars, whiskey and poker attended by five recent amputees, all clearly proud of their new body image and increasing skill with the steel replacements of their hands.

 

No-one had yet requested enough CaomalideM to guarantee complete loss of all limbs. To Harvey’s knowledge, only Leonard Waters had undergone femoral disarticulations which could be ascribed to a slight overdose. The man had kept remnants of his arms at his shoulders which would offer some meagre assistance should he ever choose to use body-powered artificial arms. So it was a surprise when two new members contacted Harvey in April asking for information about getting enough CaomalideM to ensure four disarts resulting in a smooth limbless torso. Harvey considered whether he wanted to be party to such devastating disability and interviewed both men by email over a period of several weeks. Chris Cox and Mark Long knew each other and had corresponded for a couple of years, both revealing and gradually laying out their plans to become limbless and describing their hopes for their prosthetic future. They were the first applicants who intended to acquire the very latest bionic developments. Harvey suggested a face-to-face chat to Cox, who lived closer, and willingly agreed to host Long at the same time at Cox’s suggestion. The two men arrived in a rented minibus on a mid-May Friday afternoon, assisted by Cox’s life companion who, Harvey was fairly certain, walked on prosthetic legs. The man remained silent and assisted both guests in their wheelchairs into Harvey’s home.

 

            – Welcome, both of you. I have asked you here because I want to know you a little better before I dispense the biid pill to you.

            – Perfectly understandable. It is, after all, a life-changing event.

            – All amputations are life-altering but yours are the secondmost extreme imaginable. So I need to be quite convinced of your need and how you see your futures.

            – I understand perfectly. What would you say is the most extreme amputation?

            –Hemicorporectomy.

            – Oh yes, I agree. I am not interested in losing my lower body and I understand their life expectancy is reduced considerably. Well, let me explain what we want – I hope I can speak for you, Mark. Interrupt me if I go wrong. This is not something which we have arrived at on the spur of the moment.

 

            – I think you will agree that all amputations have their sexual connotations. The reduction of a limb to a phallic symbol seems to me inescapable. And I believe you are familiar with the short but complete paralysis following a powerful ejaculation. For Mark and myself, the situation of us being permanently completely limbless and helpless represents the same ecstasy as an orgasm. We have discovered several ways over the years to disable our bodies to simulate limblessness and we both agree that it is the greatest possible pleasure. In short, we wish to experience the ecstasy of orgasms without the effort of coitus. Do you understand?

            – I don’t understand the phenomenon but I understand the desire. Do you feel the same, Mark?

            – Yes, very much so.

            – That’s remarkable. I have never heard of such intense pleasure being derived from simple amputations before, and I think I might be correct in saying I know more about their physical and social implications than anyone else in the country. You have certainly noticed my own amputee status. I am almost completely legless. I have kept short femurs for balance and intend to keep them for the time being. But however much I enjoy possessing such stumps and the new sensations – also sexual – which they bring me, I cannot imagine that they would cause me to feel such constant ecstasy.

            – That’s possibly because you can still use them. As you say, you are able to sit with them, and are using them to balance right now, no doubt. Without them, you would be helpless to sit and possibly distressed by the situation. It is that distress which for us is translated into ecstasy.

            – As I say, quite remarkable. If it’s not too personal, how have you managed to emulate limblessness to such a degree that you can be so sure it’s what you need?

            – Let me answer, Chris. I’m sitting in what I call my mobile wheelchair. I use it on occasions like now when my helper is not with me. Otherwise, I use my adapted wheelchair which, to all intents and purposes, renders me limbless.

            – How is that possible?

            – The armrests were removed and replaced with tubes from my shoulders to where the armrests would normally end. I place my arms into the tubes which are closed by my helper and I become effectively armless. Similarly, the entire front of the chair has been constructed to envelope my legs so it appears that the moulding is part of the chair and that I am legless.

            – Have you not uploaded any photos to our gallery?

            – No. But I have several on my phone, if you would like to see them.

            – I’d be fascinated.

            – My phone is in my shirt pocket. Please take it. The password is ********. Go to the gallery and find the folder called Domestic.

 

Harvey looked at the photos. The manual wheelchair was masterfully converted to Long’s personal needs. Its construction concealed the existence of its user’s limbs perfectly. Not only would Long be encased and immobile but he would also be imprisoned. There would be no way he could possibly remove himself from the chair. He smiled at the camera in every photo, his bushy blond beard and curly hair shining with the reflected glow of sunsets or downtown neon.

            – My helper sees to my every need.

            – I take it you are wearing a catheter?

            – Yes, of course. The bag’s between my legs.

Harvey returned the phone and thanked Long for allowing him to see the private images.

            – And despite that tremendous self-imposed disability, you still wish to lose your limbs.

            – I do. Bear in mind that I can still feel them. I can feel the contact between the chair’s armrests and my skin. My inoperative legs feel the foam rubber lining inside their encasement. I want to finally be rid of those sensations, which for me are like interruptions during a dream.

            – I think I can understand. What kind of body are you hoping to have after the biid pill?

            – I want to be able to sit in this wheelchair and be as restricted as I am presently in the adapted chair. I do not wish to use my arms or hands or legs. I want no sensation from them interfering with my complete and total disability.

            – So you would prefer four disarticulations?

            – I would.

            – I understand. How about you, Chris?

            

            – I am fairly disabled already. I am always in this wheelchair unless I attend some function at my company or with the bank, in which case I use leg braces and crutches. I wanted my legs to atrophy so after leaving university, I began wearing full-length plaster casts on both legs. The casts were renewed every three months and I wore them for four and a half years until I was satisfied that my ankles and knees were so degraded that they would no longer function. I transitioned into a pair of kafos which I needed to walk and I encased my arms in custom-made crutches which enveloped my arms so they were practically hidden inside my crutches.

            – I believe they are known as peg arms.

            – Indeed they are! I didn’t think you would know what I meant if I said peg arms. Well done! Anyway, in that fashion I can walk short distances. For the past year or so, I have adopted plaster casts again and they are casted with my legs in a sitting position to suit this wheelchair. Actually, they were removed only two days ago when we arranged this meeting.

            – So to all intents and purposes, you are unable to walk.

            – Correct. I can still force myself along, but fifty metres is my limit. I can stand at a lectern or walk into a bank manager’s office on kafos, but my joints are destroyed. Useless. And I couldn’t be happier. Now I would prefer to be limbless in order to achieve the degree of satisfaction which Mark has already described.

            – Is it a sexual experience for you too?

            – Well, of course!  Why else go through this rigmarole?

            – Why indeed. Alright. This has been interesting and valuable in helping me to gain a deeper insight into the potential of amputations. I have no reason to deny you your extreme body modifications. Do please understand that your amputations will be according to what your surgeons believe to be for your best. Regardless of how much tissue we try to destroy, they will always attempt to retain a millimetre of bone here, a sliver of skin there. Disarticulations are the most demanding to achieve on our part, but naturally some of the easiest and quickest to perform for the surgical team. Have you each thought of a timetable which would suit you?

            – No time like the present!

            – No! I wasn’t going anywhere. If you can stand our company for a few hours, I see no reason why we shouldn’t go ahead right now.

Harvey looked at the earnest faces of the two voluntary invalids. Both had done their best for over a decade to destroy their limbs. It would come as a relief to both men to be rid of them.

            – Wait here a moment. I’ll see if I have some pills left.

It was an odd thing to say. Harvey knew he still had two unopened vials containing a hundred each. There were a few left in the first vial. Not enough. Harvey took an unopened vial back to the lounge.

            – We have enough, gentlemen. Should we inform your driver?

            – We should, I suppose. There’s not much point in him waiting outside.

            – You could ask him if he’d prefer to join us.

            – That’s kind of you. Would you mind making the call for me?

            – Not at all.

Harvey took Chris’s phone and dialled. He held the phone near Chris’s face while Chris explained the situation. The group heard the driver reply that he would park the minibus in a better spot and return within a few minutes.

 

Harvey rolled to answer the door. The driver thanked him for his generosity and gripped the door frame as he stepped inside. Harvey wheeled backwards to make room for him and again suspected that the man’s legs were artificial. The driver introduced himself as Harry Hurst and sat on a dining chair in the lounge. Harvey collected some plastic beakers and a bottle of mineral water from the kitchen and asked Chris and Mark if they had decided on the number of pills they wished to take. He fed twelve to Chris and helped him swallow them. Mark took ten and settled back to wait for the drug to take affect.

 

The men quietened. They were imagining themselves in perhaps a year’s time, being catered to by their respective companions who had used their stumped torsos for their own pleasure during the early hours. Chris knew he was well-endowed and fantasised about shafting his lover, being manhandled into position and held in place. Their limbs discoloured gradually, past the knees and elbows towards the groin and shoulders. Harvey spoke quietly with Hurst who revealed himself to be Mark’s partner and who did indeed use leg prostheses. His legs had been destroyed in a terrorist bomb blast in Westminster when he was a young teen and he had learned to walk on basic health service legs. He was a taxi driver, owned his own Mercedes and was on call twenty-four seven for a small but impressive clientele, comprising bankers, actors and glitterati. Their fares were usually the cost of a quick run down the motorway to the airport but their gratuities were what paid for the upkeep on their Georgian house in Bayswater. Hurst explained his enthusiasm for his partner’s transformation, knowing that the man might well be listening. As a legless man himself who still made a good living, he was certain Mark would be able to use his considerable mental skill to benefit his employer and would be mobile in an adapted wheelchair and with an electronic manipulator arm attached either to the chair or to the torso himself. Unlike all the other Quadrant members who Harvey had treated, these two men with their demands for utter limblessness were the only ones who intended to adopt electronic and bionic replacements for their missing limbs and stunted mobility.

 

By the end of the sixth hour, both Mark and Chris remarked that they were satisfied that their treatment was complete. Hurst pushed himself erect onto his inert legs and left to collect the minibus. He lowered the platform for wheelchair access and succeeded in wheeling both invalids into the vehicle. Harvey raised a hand in farewell and the men were delivered to two West London hospitals where their apparently diseased limbs were amputated. Chris became completely limbless. Mark kept two or three centimetres of stump at his groin and shoulders, completely useless for prosthetic use but tantalising for his lover who would come to enjoy seeing the torso’s pathetic attempts at movement. Both men were eventually fitted with bionic arms, none of which resembled human limbs. They were strapped into gyroscopic two-wheeled wheelchairs. Chris especially found his single manipulator with its seven axes of motion to be far more versatile than any conventional prosthesis and experienced immense joy at controlling it without any tactile sensation. Only his brain and his enormous penis played a role in his daily life. He had nothing else.

 

The last applicant from the Quadrant forum arrived during the school summer holidays. He was tall, lithe and shaved his head. He seemed skittish and Harvey wondered if he was taking narcotics but after an hour, the boy had relaxed. Harvey put it down to shyness and nerves.

            – You are just beginning your life, Kai. Can you explain why you want to alter your body in the way you requested?

            – I want four short stumps. I’ve seen hundred of photos of quads on the various forums. I’ve got thousands of photos on my home server. Not all of them are quads, of course. Some of the men are missing both arms at the shoulder and others are legless with tiny stumps they can just about balance on.

            – That’s what I have.

            – Yes, I thought I recognised a high DAK when you opened the door. Do you enjoy having such short stumps?

            – I do. But this is my third configuration. First I had below knee stumps, then above knee stumps much longer than these. Then I had those shortened to the nubs I have now. I think I’m going to keep them. I like the way they look as well as the sensations they generate. But why do you want to start with stumps like mine?

            – It’s the way I want to be.

            – Wouldn’t you like to experiment with a whole range of stumps first and enjoy a whole range of prosthetic limbs? You do realise that if you achieve nubs like mine, you’ll also have similar nubs at your shoulders. You’ll have a lot of trouble operating artificial arms and hooks.

            – That’s what I want. I want to be a mechanical cyborg. Walking on mechanical legs and relying on mechanical arms.

            – Kai, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. You really ought to take this in gentle stages. Start with amputations of your hands and feet first and learn to use those prostheses. Get used to them for a few years and then you can have higher amputations with more demanding artificial limbs. I really think you should start that way to become a successful cyborg, as you put it. I’m willing at this stage to let you have only three pills which will make you a DBE/DBK with starter prostheses for a young man starting out in life.

Kai stared at him. He was quite annoyed that he was not going to get his wish to be almost limbless granted. After a few moments thought, he decided to go along with Harvey’s plan until he could get another dose of CaomalideM.

            – Alright. I see the sense in what you’re saying. May I start with hands and feet, then? And after that at some time in the future, we can increase the dose.

            – I’m glad you can see the sense of it. We’ll start that way. I think three pills will give you the limbs you’ll need to become a proficient user of prostheses.

            – I agree.

            – Good. I'll get the pills.

 

Harvey wheeled to his bedroom and found the second vial of pills. He took it to the lounge, where Kai sat looking through an album of amputee men on his phone. He put the vial on the sofa.

            – Have you thought about what kind of prostheses you might be interested in?

            – No, not really. I always thought I could go direct to limblessness.

            – Oh I see. Look, let me get a bunch of catalogues from prosthetics companies. It’ll be something for you to look at while we wait for the effects to take place.

            – OK.

Harvey wheeled himself back to his bedroom and took down a few folders from his bookshelf, checking that they were current. Kai opened the vial of biid pills and extracted four before he quickly returned to his seat. He could hear the slap of pages as Harvey sought out his leaflets. In an act of pure vindictiveness, he dropped the pills into Harvey’s glass of apple juice which he had offered when Kai arrived.

            – Found them! Take a look at these, Kai. I’m sure you’ll find something interesting.

He lifted two folders from his wheelchair’s seat and handed them to Kai. He picked up the vial of pills and shook three into the palm of his hand.

            – This will be enough, Kai. I’m pretty sure. You’ll have very practical stumps and it might even be the case that you won’t even want to progress. But the important thing is that you’ll have the choice. You do understand, don’t you?

            – Yes, I understand. Shall I swallow these now?

            – Go ahead. Do you want some water?

            – No need. I’ve got this apple juice.

            – Oh yeah!  I’d forgotten about that.

Harvey picked up his own glass and tilted it until the last drop was gone.

            – It’ll take a few hours, Kai. Five or six. Get comfortable.

Harvey took the empty glasses to the kitchen and brought back a plate of donuts in case they got peckish.

 

The familiar progression of the drug’s effects began after about an hour. Kai noticed he was unable to move his fingers. Harvey was flicking through his phone, tapping out replies to emails when he noticed a loss of sensation. Kai was keeping a furtive eye on him. Half an hour later, it was obvious what was happening. Somehow Harvey had ingested some CaomalideM. He looked across at Kai, who was studying his darkening hands and wrists.

            – Did you spike my juice? Did you put some pills in my glass?

            – Yes, I did. If I can’t have them, you can have them.

            – For Christ’s sake! How many did you put in?

            – Only four. Don’t get worked up.

Harvey knew that as a high level DAK, four pills would equate to at least six for a full-bodied person. He was going to lose his arms almost completely, if not undergo disarticulations. There was nothing to be done.

            – You’d better call someone before we’re too paralysed. Get someone around quick!

Harvey was shocked that anyone could be so callous. He should have let Kai have his own way and lose his limbs completely. Now Kai would end up with four long stumps and he would end up with nothing.

            – I can’t move my hands. You do it!

Harvey’s phone was on his seat in front of his stumps. He picked it up between his senseless hands and ordered Kai to push him over to the dining table. Kai succeeded in standing on unfeeling feet and staggered across the room, pushing the chair with his hips. Harvey placed the phone on the table and tried to think of who he could call for help. Mark’s assistant might have a car or otherwise be willing to help out. He would know first hand what Harvey and Kai were going through and the necessity of getting them to hospital for amputations as soon as possible. Harvey was able to tap his way to his phone app with a blackened pinkie and called Mark.

            – Hi Mark! How’s it going? Listen, I’m in a bit of a pickle here at home. I’ve accidentally taken some biid pills and I’m going to need some help pretty soon. There’s someone else with me in the same situation.

            – I get it. Do you want me to send Harry round? Will you fit in a normal car?

            – Well, I will once I’m out of my chair. The other patient will need some help getting in but we have my wheelchair so it shouldn’t be too hard.

            – Bear in mind that Harry is legless but he should be able to help. I can manage for a couple of hours without him, I suppose. You want him there as soon as possible, I assume?

            – If he could, Mark. Thanks very much.

Mark rang off and closed the connection. Harvey bowed his head and considered his situation. He might very well end up completely limbless like Chris. He wracked his brain trying to think of another legless guy who had wanted his arms off. What dosage had he taken? What were its effects? He wanted to access his statistics but they were in a private folder behind a long password. The password itself was in a notebook in his bedroom. He doubted he would be able to use his blackened claws to search the pages of a book for anything. He raised his gaze to the ceiling and thought. The door would need to be opened for Hurst. He looked at Kai, collapsed on the sofa, useless. Harvey’s elbows still moved to some degree. At a snail’s pace, Harvey shoved his dead hands against his wheels and reached the front door. His hands were lacerated but there was no blood. He lifted an arm onto the lock and opened it after many efforts. He sat in his wheelchair by the door waiting for help to arrive. Waiting for his arms to die. At some point, he had wanted to use artificial arms. He had chosen not to, not yet. Now the choice had been taken from him. He could not even predict what he would look like in twenty-four hours. His hands rested on the empty space in front of his leg stumps, unfeeling and immobile.

 

Harvey returned from his reverie when he heard steps approaching. Regular, slightly laboured steps. Harry had arrived. He noticed the door was ajar and knocked lightly before carefully pushing it open. Harvey called out to him and he pulled himself over the threshold.

            – Thanks you for coming, Harry. We’re in a bit of a situation. Did Mark explain anything to you?

            – Only that you were in a bit of a fix and might need a hand.

            – Aptly put. Yes, we need a hand. I’ve got someone here for the biid pill and somehow I seem to have ingested some of it too. I don’t know how the customer intended to get to hospital but I need a lift. Would you mind shuttling the pair of us to to different hospitals in a couple of hours? We ought to wait until the drug has run its course.

            – You mean to say you’re going to lose your arms as well?

            – Yes!  Look at the state of these!

Harvey tried to lift his arms but they fell to both sides of his wheelchair’s armrests.

            – Shit. I’m sorry, Paul. That’s not what you wanted, is it?

            – Not right now. But now’s not the time for that. Can you push me into the lounge? You might as well get comfortable while we’re waiting.

 

Kai looked embarrassed and could not bring himself to meet either man’s eyes. The flippant action he had taken was proving to be considerably more serious than he had thought. Or had not thought. It was a stupid and vicious thing to have done to someone who was only trying to help him. He looked at his arms dying and compared them with Harvey’s. Harvey’s arms were shades of maroon to his elbows and there was still at least two hours to go. Kai hoped Harvey would not lose both arms completely. He would have to make it up to him somehow.

 

The time came to leave. Harry struggled to transfer the men into his car. Harvey went first and was dragged into the front passenger seat by Harry’s efforts from the driver’s side. Harry took the wheelchair back inside where Kai had more success transferring himself. His hands were dead but his elbows still moved. Harry pushed him outside and asked Harvey if he should close the house. He switched off lights and pulled plugs and made sure the door was firmly shut. He rocked back to his car and delivered his passengers to two separate hospitals, the same ones to which he had taken Chris and Mark several months previously.

 

Kai received four viable stumps. His shortened forearms would be suitable for standard below elbow prostheses and his leg stumps, although a little short, should be able to manage a pair of below knee prostheses without trouble unless he tried something strenuous. Harvey, on the other hand, faced a future as a torso with ten centimetre arm stumps at his shoulders to match his thigh nubs. Harvey was relieved that he had retained even ten centimetres of stump. It seemed odd to him that if he had ingested four pills as Kai claimed, the results were so mild. Perhaps he had not swallowed all the dissolved drug from the bottom of the glass. Or maybe the acid in the apple juice neutralised the biid pill somehow. Whatever the case, he was not about to discuss the matter with the medical staff who were friendly and attentive. Harvey would have liked to spend the long weeks of recovery reading and moderating Quadrant but he was too severely disabled to do much more than twist his body to get more comfortable every hour or so. He noticed that his thigh stumps were now devoid of feeling. The unique erogenous zone he had created there was now in the past. He could still move his nubs but there was no sensation. Harvey reasoned that without hands or stumps to touch himself, it was of no import whether his nubs could feel or not. It was merely another facet of his limblessness to adapt to. As a life-long admirer and successful wannabe, Harvey was not depressed by his increased disability. He had lost his arms at an earlier age than he might otherwise have chosen but he was looking forward to the challenges of operating a pair of arm prostheses. He would have to start looking around for an electric wheelchair, too.

 

Kai’s convalescence was a nightmare of tedium. He was unable to do anything for himself. His stumps were bandaged anew every morning. He was assured that he would be able to remain independent if he applied himself to learning to walk and function with a pair of hooks. Kai did not care about walking. He was impatient to get his first pair of steel hooks. They were the whole point of the exercise. Finally, after four weeks, his stumps were cast by two different prosthetists and he started a countdown to the day he would walk out of hospital on his own prosthetic feet.

 

Because Harvey would no longer be able to use a manual wheelchair but was otherwise able-bodied, a prosthetist suggested he learn to use stubbies for mobility around his home and why not further afield too, if he could tolerate the inevitable curious stares. Harvey had never considered acquiring prosthetics for his nubs. Surely they were too short for any practical purpose. The prosthetist, Peter Stewart, had a different opinion.

            – If you want to stand and walk short distances, I see no reason why we shouldn’t manufacture a pair of stubbies for you, Paul. As you doubtless understand, your artificial arms are not going to be up to the job of pushing your wheelchair.

            – Alright. You’ve twisted my arm. Let’s go for it. One pair of stubbies for the limbless geek.

            – Don’t put yourself down, Paul. You’re far from limbless by our standards. It’s a matter of making you the correct prostheses. Wouldn’t you like to walk again?

            – Of course I would.

            – Well then, let’s get started.

 

Stewart fashioned a set of stubbies which took advantage of Harvey’s buttocks for mobility. The sockets were little more than saucer-shaped for the meagre thigh nubs but Harvey was easily able to use his glutes to kick the stubbies forward. Stewart had fitted twelve centimetre long pylons with circular feet. Harvey found it comparatively easy to balance on them, an important skill to master for a man without the counterweight of arms. Gradually he became more confident and asked a nurse to don his stubbies every morning. He learned to move slowly but surely on his minuscule steel legs and felt relief about being free of the wheelchair for at least some of the time.

 

His arms were fitted over the following days. Because of the brevity of his remaining stumps, the sockets enveloped his shoulders and he was left with a limited range of motion. The forearms were lightweight cylinders with standard aluminium hooks. Harvey knew the theory of how his prostheses worked and was prepared for the challenge of operating both the elbow mechanism and the hook with his shoulders. To his surprise, he was pleased with the appearance of the arms. They were extremely unnatural in appearance, comfortable to wear, and he enjoyed seeing his two hooks. Although his additional disablement was mistimed, he felt whole and capable. His short arm stumps matched his thigh nubs. He could walk again in his own fashion and before long he would have the hooks under control. Things could be worse. His prosthetists recognised in him a patient who would function well with prosthetic limbs and recommended that Harvey be discharged at his earliest convenience with the proviso that a district nurse call in every morning to don Harvey’s prostheses.

 

Kai was not faring so well. He had watched so many videos, new and old, of bilateral hook users operating their hooks to do everything from changing the oil in their car to making a salad. However, Kai’s hooks seemed to be lifeless pieces of bent steel at the end of his rigid sockets. He knew how to open them by shrugging his shoulders or stretching forward but it was awkward to turn a page or pick up a spoon. He was still in a wheelchair. His leg stumps were taking longer to heal than his arms. He began to realise that quadruple amputations were more disabling than he had expected even though he had retained good stumps below his elbows and below his knees. He had done a shitty thing to Harvey. He had wanted to lose his limbs completely and Harvey had talked him out of it. In a pique of frustration, Kai wreaked his revenge. He was deeply ashamed. He would live with the regret for the rest of his life and be reminded of it every day. He plucked up courage to contact Harvey, tapping out a brief message with the tip of a steel hook on his phone, asking how Harvey was doing.

 

Harvey noticed the message the next morning when he checked his emails, assisted by the nurse when she fitted Harvey’s stubbies. She opened the message and held the phone for Harvey to read.

            – i hope ur ok. im sorry. ill do anything 2 help u.

Harvey was surprised by the boy’s chutzpah. He considered the boy’s disabilities and reasoned that within a few months, he might function well enough with prostheses to be able to work. If the boy genuinely meant he would do anything, Harvey had a position available for a permanent personal assistant. With Kai’s less severe disabilities, the pair of them might be able to lead independent lives in Harvey’s home. He gave it some thought. If the boy was so contrite that he was still wracked by guilt after so many weeks, he was probably being honest. At lunchtime, he asked the same nurse if she would send a reply. He dictated.

            – visit me in st marys when you get out. we need to talk.

 

Harvey attended one more session of rehab and was abruptly informed that he was being discharged. He would be almost helpless alone in his apartment and was almost panicking trying to think of someone he could ask to help out for a couple of days until he found a new routine. The only person he could think of was Mark’s lover Harry Hurst. Harry knew the address and could pick up some groceries on the way. Harvey could not imagine himself negotiating a successful shopping trip in his current condition. Once again, a nurse typed another short message for him and sent it to Mark.

            – i’m being discharged today and need help at home. can i borrow harry for a few hours? call me when you get time.

Mark called half an hour later. Harvey was slowly collecting his meagre possessions and placing them into a carrier bag. It was good to try his arms and hooks on something practical. His prosthetist had wisely constructed the arms with components shorter than usual. The hooks hung by Harvey’s hips in the relaxed position. It saved weight and made the kit easier to use and prevented his hooks striking the ground. Harvey stood only twelve centimetres clear of the floor.

 

            – Hi Paul! They’re letting you out today, are they? That’s great.

            – Yup!  At last. There’s only one little problem.

            – Let me guess. You need a lift home.

            – A bit more than that, actually. I need to buy some food and get things sorted out at home, run some laundry, that sort of thing. I was wondering if you could spare Harry for a few hours – assuming he’s willing to help.

            – Oh, he’ll help if I tell him. Don’t worry about that. Would you like him to drop in tomorrow some time?

            – That would be ideal, Mark. Thanks ever so much. Look, can you ask Harry to pick me up in the lobby at five? I’ll be in a wheelchair, not that I can use it myself but it’s handy for this evening.

            – He’ll be there. OK, I have to go, Paul. Talk to you later. Bye!

 

Harvey was wheeled to the hospital lobby at four forty-five. He had placed his cross next to his name on the discharge form, said goodbye to his fellow amputees on the ward and thanks to the nurses he saw. His bag of dirty laundry and spare hooks stood next to his chair. A few minutes later, Harry Hurst rocked in wearing a pair of cargo shorts and displaying his artificial legs and scanned the room for his pick-up. Harvey saw him and shouted out. Harry wheeled the familiar face to his van, lowered the ramp and pushed the torso inside.

            – Where to first?

            – Just take me home, if that’s OK, Harry. I need to buy some grub but there’s probably a tin of soup in the cupboard to tide me over.

            – Right. Let’s take you home first. You can look at what you need and I can nip out to buy it. I’ve got all evening off, apparently, so there’s no hurry. We get you sorted and see what needs to be done then.

            – Thanks Harry. It means a lot to me. You’re very kind. We always seem to call for you when we get into a mess.

            – Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to feel useful. I know how you helped Mark and the others. Now it’s your turn.

 

During the next few hours, Harry added extra rubber bands to Harvey’s hooks, bought a week’s worth of groceries from the local hypermarket, laundered Harvey’s dirty clothes, made coffee for them twice and rearranged some furniture so that Harvey could move about his flat more easily and operate his phone while seated at a table. He moved things like toothpaste, towels, mugs and plates and clothes to lower levels so that Harvey could reach them while standing on his stubbies. Harry was fascinated by the tiny steel legs. Such an unnatural way to walk, so precarious. It was ironic that Harvey seemed more balanced and secure than he did on his long prosthetic legs with the twenty centimetre thigh sockets. He had never thought about getting a pair of stubbies for himself but seeing Harvey he could well imagine himself moving around his and Mark’s home wearing cylindrical stubbies. He would have to look into getting himself a pair. Finally, he plugged Harvey’s phone in to recharge. It was on a coffee table which had been moved against a wall next to the electricity outlet. There were pens and notepads and conductive styluses which Harvey could grip to tap out messages more easily than with a hook. Most people wrote and typed with all the dozens of muscles in their arms and hands. Harvey had to contend with the two or three left to him near his shoulders. He decided early on that he would not be taking up calligraphy as a hobby.

 

Harvey was visited daily by his district nurse, an ebony black Congolese who spoke with an unexpected and charming French accent, and by Harry who arrived late afternoon to run errands and help out in the kitchen. Between the two of them, Harvey was able to keep clean and healthy while he learned to persuade the recalcitrant prosthetic arms to do his bidding. The nurse was present to lift him onto the toilet. Harvey used a hospital piss bottle during the day. Harry emptied it when he arrived.

 

Harvey restarted his career as moderator-in-chief of Quadrant. Several of the members knew through the grapevine that the founder had undergone further amputations but not their nature nor their cause. Harvey researched voice-operated operating systems and selected one which understood both his deep voice and his regional accent and replied in an acceptable male voice. Harvey was able again to negotiate the internet on his laptop and reply to messages and queries on the forum. Reading the dreams and fantasies of the ever-growing number of members, Harvey felt proud of having achieved the status which so many other men could only imagine – almost complete limblessness by the age of thirty-five, with restricted ability to operate prosthetic limbs. Harvey thought his prosthetic arms did more than offer him restricted motion. He was getting fairly adept with his hooks. He could make himself a sandwich and feed himself. He dared not make himself a hot drink using a kettle, but could pry the lid off a container of super-espresso or other energy drink.

 

A new message arrived from Kai. He asked how Harvey was and hoped he was comfortable with his prosthetic limbs. The message seemed pointless and Harvey deducted that Kai wanted contact but was unable to express himself. He considered the alternatives and concluded his present mental dilemma by inviting the boy to his home the next day when they could hash out the regret, antagonism, blame and apology which clouded their every contact.

 

Kai turned up wearing traditional skinhead garb and someone had shaved his head either that morning or the previous evening. His scalp shone in the sunshine, the skin without any sign of whiteness, the sign of a recent haircut. Kai had been bald for a few years. He no longer felt himself to be a skinhead, having been violently rejected by his gang after he let slip that he liked other men. But he maintained the look. There were gay skinheads and he wore his glossy olive green MA-1 jacket and his tall cherry-red skinhead boots over his bleach-splattered jeans in defiance. The cuffs of his jacket almost completely concealed his steel hooks and no-one would ever suspect that the stiff and heavy boots contained steel pylons attached to rubber feet.

            – Hello, Paul. Thank you for inviting me.

            – Come in, come in. I see you are walking again.

Kai grabbed hold of the door frame with both hooks and pulled himself over the step.

            – I’m getting better at it. My stumps are a bit short but I’m getting used to balancing on these.

            – Good. I’m glad to hear it. Come on. Let’s sit down in here and you can tell me what’s on your mind.

 

Kai burst into tears. Harvey had rolled himself up onto the sofa. His stubbies shone and reflected a sunbeam at the ceiling. His arms were set at ninety degrees. He looked at the weeping boy. Kai swiped his eyes with his right socket which did almost nothing. His hooks were pointing is the wrong direction for him to touch the corners of his eyes. Harvey waited.

            – I’ve had these for a month and only now can I understand what it means to be an amputee. I wanted hooks all my life and now I have them, I hate them! And when I think of what I did to you – ah! It was so easy to do! Just a couple of pills in your drink. And I made you lose your arms, much worse than mine. And I’m having lots of trouble learning so I can’t imagine what you’re going through with your full-length arms.

Harvey said nothing.

            – I don’t know how many times I can tell you I am sorry before you believe me. But I really hate myself for hurting you. I even know now that I would never want to lose more of my limbs than I already have. I asked you for the pills to become a torso with tiny stumps. I’m so grateful you refused me and allowed me only these. I love my hooks for the way they look but I hate them for the way they don’t let me do the things I want. I can’t even change a CD in the record player. Can’t hold a cup, can’t turn a tap, can’t wipe my arse. It’s hopeless.

            – Well, Kai. As you have found out, there is more to amputation than meets the eye of a devotee and wannabe. I’m surprised that you are surprised. Why did you not understand that using hooks meant that you would be operating them with something other than your hands? Artificial limbs exist to replace what is gone forever. They are bloodless, powerless pieces of metal and plastic. Completely lifeless. It’s up to you to put some life into them. What have you got left? Shoulders and elbows? So that’s what you have to use. Stop bitching and make the most of it. Learn to use your shoulders and elbows to make the hooks do what you want.

            – Alright, I understand. It’s up to me to use them properly.

            – To learn to use them. You can’t simply think ‘Oh hook! Do what I want’. You have to learn how to operate the hook so it does what you want. Before, if you wanted to put a lump of sugar in your tea, you’d just do it. Now you have to think about the position of your hooks, set them correctly and guide the hook carefully so you don’t knock the drink over.

            – That’s exactly what I mean. It takes so much effort. Mental effort.

            – I’ve heard some amputees say that’s an unexpected advantage. They see the world and their lives more sharply. They pay more attention to what’s around them because they’ve learned to look at things in a different way.

            – Yeah, I suppose so.

            – What else is on your mind? What did you mean in your text message? Something about doing anything for me.

Kai looked cautiously at Harvey, trying to read his mood.

            – I hurt you more than I thought possible. I’ll never forgive myself, even if you forgive me. I promise to help you any way I can. I know a quad amputee isn’t much use to anyone. But I promise to try.

            – I’ve been thinking about the pros and cons of having a permanent personal assistant. Someone who can do the things which need doing but which I can’t manage, not easily anyway. I need a man to help me shit, shave and shower, make food, keep the place clean and reasonably tidy and run errands. He would be so much part of my life that he would not have much of his own. He would always be ready to help me and serve.

            – I would help and serve you if you let me. I owe it to you after what I did to you. Tell me how I can serve you and be your personal assistant.

            – If you’re serious about helping, you’d have to move in and live here. I can get a spare mattress, something inflatable, and you can sleep here in the lounge. I would draft a contract spelling out your duties and my expectations and you would be protected then by law.

            – I’d be like a butler. Always present, always ready to serve.

            – That’s the general idea. Is that what you had in mind when you said you’d do anything?

            – It’s much more. It sounds much more useful and gratifying than what I’d thought. I’d be your butler for you, if you let me. I wouldn’t let you down, I promise.

            – Alright. I think I believe you. When do you want to start?

            – Any time! I’m free now. I don’t have a job, uni is over, my flatmates don’t really want me around. I don’t think they like seeing my artificial limbs.

            – Ha! We don’t have that problem here.

            – So I could start when you’re ready for me.

            – I’m ready now, actually. If you go and collect your clothes and books, you can move in tonight. Do you want to borrow my big suitcase? It has wheels so you can manage it with hooks.

            – That would be great.

            – It’s in my bedroom closet. Go and get it.

Kai rose to his feet and faltered for a second or two as he fought to maintain his balance on his pylons. He shrugged his harness to reseat it properly and strode out of the room. Harvey heard the closet door open and a hollow thud as the suitcase dropped to the floor. The wheels squealed on the parquet.

            – I had better give you a key. There’s a spare in a glass jar on the top shelf of the rightmost kitchen cupboard. I leave it to you to retrieve. I can’t possibly get it for you. I am far too seriously disabled.

Kai cast a guilty look at Harvey. He went to the kitchen and hooked open the cupboard door. He could see a small glass jar which had once contained mint jelly. It contained a few keys, a few foreign coins and miscellaneous nuts and bolts. Kai could almost reach it but he could no longer stand on tiptoe nor could he stretch his arms and close his hooks. He would have to stand on a chair. Several minutes later, he had the jar in his hooks and faced the next problem, how to open it. After realising that his hooks were not going to do the job, he looked around for another way. He dampened a tea towel and spread it on the counter. He turned the jar upside down so the lid had purchase against the damp cloth and tried again. His hooks were too weak to grip the slippery glass. Finally, he shrugged off his prostheses and dumped them on the table. Maybe he could use his naked stumps to twist the jar open. It worked! Kai donned his arms again, pried the house key out of the jar and replaced the lid very loosely. He cradled the jar between two open hooks and returned the jar to the cupboard on a lower shelf.

 

            – Is this the right key?

            – Yeah, it looks like it. Do you know how to use keys yet? No? Put a metal bar through the hole like a small screwdriver and use both hooks to push on it. Otherwise you’ll never open a door. You must have noticed that your hooks don’t rotate.

            – No, they don’t.

            – Go on, then. Go and get your stuff and bring it here. I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll still be here when you get back.

Kai smiled at Harvey and nodded his head. His eyes were still bloodshot from weeping but he was in a far better mental state when he left than when he had arrived.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Kai adapted to the role of a gentleman’s assistant with astonishing alacrity. Harvey was prepared for a few weeks of rough ground while he became used to having another man living in his apartment but this was not a relationship of equals. Kai made himself invisible when he was not seeing to Harvey’s needs or desires. Harvey did not take advantage of the younger man. He understood that a dedicated and trustworthy assistant could be nurtured only by reasonable requests, intimate procedures in the bathroom and continual genuine gratitude and commendations. Kai grew into his new position. He lost his guilt and found respect for his crippled master. With the work for two his responsibility, he quickly learned new tricks and developed a new assurance in his prosthetic handiwork. Harvey watched him gradually adopt his hooks and use them as naturally as his own flesh and blood hands. The matter was never brought up, but Harvey could see that Kai was approaching the situation he had longed for since he was a pup. No hands but hooks, doing everything his hands could do. No feet, but stunning steel pylons which looked more masculine than the beefiest bodybuilder’s calves.

 

            – Kai, do you know what day tomorrow is?

            – No, sir. What?

            – It is your first anniversary. You arrived exactly one year ago. Do you remember that evening?

            – Yes, sir. I do. I was so depressed when I arrived and so relieved when I left.

            – Is there anything about the past year that you would have changed?

            – No, sir. I am happy to act as your assistant. You are the only man who ever helped me. Without you I would never have achieved my beautiful hooks or my pylons.

            – And without you, I would never have learned to use my arms. I would not have had the freedom to take things slowly. I think we are a pretty good team. Do you regret giving up your life to serve me?

            – No, sir, because it doesn’t feel like service. It feels like something I should always have been aiming for. To find a master I admire and learn to serve him.

 

Harvey stretched his black carbon right arm, gripping a glass of lager in its hook towards Kai’s similar adaptation. The glasses collided gently and they wished each other good health and long lives.

 

 

THE biid PILL