DESIRED BODIES

 

DESIRED BODIES

By DOUG UK

The prequel to Strzeka’s story

“EXTENSION” (April 2022)

––

Long before Kyle Byrne got involved with the extraordinary house of amputees, there was a long and intriguing back story. This is it.

 

Ever since he was a little kid, Ronnie had loved motorbikes. As soon as he was able, he started a paper-round, and thus started saving for his first bike. Later he added a Saturday job, washing up in a café in Gravesend, and it was soon after his seventeenth birthday that he bought his first bike, a small 100cc Yamaha. From the moment he sat on it, he knew he was a natural, and quickly passed his test. With a motorbike licence in his pocket, he was determined to save even harder to buy a bigger quicker bike. After leaving school and getting his first job, he could save faster and for his nineteenth birthday he not only bought himself a 500cc Suzuki, but also a full set of bike leathers.

It was soon after his birthday that he realised that he was gay, and so he hunted for a leather club in the hope of meeting other gay bikers. He found a club near Mile End Station and would drive very fast from his home in Deptford to spend an evening and most of the night in the smoky atmosphere of the Backstreet club.

Sometimes there would be another bike parked close to the door of the club, a bigger and more powerful one than his and he would wonder which of the leather-clad hunks he encountered in the dark had arrived on such a wondrous monster. He took to wearing his leathers without any underwear, and got a great erotic charge with the skin-tight leather, the heavy boots, and the black helmet with its smoked visor.

He looked enviously at the black R1 and determined that he’d soon exchange his 500 for something as menacing as the great machine he often parked beside. He did not go to the club very often, and the sleek black R1 wasn’t there every time he did go, but he could not get the image out of his mind, and he saved with even greater determination to buy himself a black monster that would overshadow the machine at the club door. 

He was approaching his twenty-first birthday when he finally had enough cash and took delivery of a Yamaha V-Max with its 1700cc engine. The dealership was bemused when he wanted the whole thing airbrushed matt black, but to him it was the ultimate thing of beauty. Squeezing into his leathers and with his smoked visor pulled down he was one with his bike, a vision of black manhood. He rode very fast to Backstreet and was pleased to see the black R1 parked there already. He parked right before the door, and sat on the bike for a while, enjoying the admiring looks from other leather men as they arrived at the club. He checked his helmet into John at the door, pulled on a tight leather hood, lit a cigar and wandered into the club.

Over the next few weeks, he parked his huge V-Max outside the club, often next to the matt-black R1, but could never identify the owner. He began to get rather bored by the same old smoky crowd, and rarely stayed too late.

It was a warm night in June ideal for biking in the dark, when he went to Backstreet for that last fateful visit. After a while, still unable to identify the owner of the R1, he became bored and realised that he’d rather be riding his machine than standing around in the smoke of the club, so he left and roared down the A12 towards home. In the moonlit warmth of the summer night he left the London suburbs, and pushed the bike faster and faster, soon topping the ton, wondering how fast it would go, how fast did he dare to go?

He flashed past a car and headed into a very tight right-hand bend. At this speed he could not pull the bike into a tight enough turn and he hit the steel barrier at over a 100 miles an hour. The motorist he’d just overtaken saw the whole incident, and instantly phoned for police and ambulance.

At Deptford hospital the surgeon amputated the little that was left of his left leg, and patched up his left arm as best he could, although there was little skin left on that arm. Even his expensive leathers could not save him from injury at that speed, and the hospital staff had cut the leathers to pieces to get his injured body out of them. He was put into an induced coma for several days.

When he woke, he was in pain, and groaned when he moved his heavily bandaged arm. A nurse was watching over him and spoke when he opened his eyes.

“You’re awake,” she said. “I’ll get you some water.”

“What’s happened?” said Ronnie.

“You’re in hospital,” said the nurse. “You crashed your motorbike. You’ve been here for nearly a week.”

“Can I have something for the pain,” said Ronnie, “it’s my arm and my leg. God, what’s happened to me.”

“Your arm was badly injured. They’ve patched it up, but it will take a while to heal properly.”

“And my leg?” said Ronnie.

“It’s gone,” said the nurse.

“All of it?”

“Yes, dear. I’m sorry but there’s nothing left. The surgeon said it was unusual to have to amputate so high up to your hip.”

“So why does it hurt?” said Ronnie.

“It’s the pain of the new scar. It will slowly fade away.”

The nurse walked away, and Ronnie lay back thinking. “One leg gone completely?” he thought to himself. “I’m going to be one-legged for the rest of my life.  So why have a got such a huge erection? I never realised it before, but being one-legged, an amputee, is a real turn-on. Wow!”

The nurses were amazed at how quickly Ronnie recovered from the life-changing amputation, little realising that he thoroughly enjoyed being one-legged. He was up as soon as possible and learning to walk with crutches. “I love this,” he thought, but he struggled to hide the great erection he had every time he practised walking.

He was unsure if he’d ever ride a bike again, so when he got the insurance money for his destroyed bike, he decided to buy top quality leathers so that he could return to the Backstreet club. He had a pair of black crutches made, and the left leg of his new leather jeans cut off and sewed, showing how close to his hip his amputation had been. After a few weeks, he felt strong enough to go to the club, and took a train and then a bus to get there. It was late evening when he arrived, and the black R1 was parked outside. John the doorman didn’t recognise him at first and said, “Hi mate. Have you been here before?”

“Yes,” said Ronnie, “but then I came on my bike and had two legs. Last time I came here, I crashed my bike on the way home, and left my left leg on the side of the road.”

“Christ mate, that was bad luck.”

Ronnie grinned. “No,” he said, “it was good luck, because I really love my new body, I love being one legged, and I love using crutches.”

“Bloody hell, mate,” said John. “That’s dead queer, that is.”

Ronnie laughed, pulled on his hood, and crutched into the club. At the bar, he ordered a beer, and sat on a high stool, keeping his crutches in one hand. Several leather men checked him out. “They like the look,” thought Ronnie. “I think some of them are even a bit jealous.”

A tall and handsome man, in expensive leathers and wearing a similar hood, watched him from a distance for a while, and then approached Ronnie. “Hello, young man,” said the stranger, “I’ve not seen you here before. Would you like a cigar?”

“I’m not new here,” said Ronnie, “but I’ve not been here for a while. You see I have only one leg. Last time I was here, I had two.”

“I see, and I love what I see,” said the stranger, putting an arm around Ronnie’s shoulders. “How about that cigar?”

“I’d love one,” said Ronnie. “By the way, my name’s Ronnie.”

“And my name’s Sigmund,” said the stranger. “I’m a biker. That’s my R1 out the front.”

“You!” exclaimed Ronnie. “I’ve often wondered who came on that bike. I was a biker too until I crashed. I had a V-Max 1700, but it nearly killed me.”

“I saw that V-Max once or twice. I never knew who came on it. Fabulous bike, all black matt if I remember correctly. Did it survive your crash?”

“Sadly no. Even though it was a tough bike, I smashed it to bits. I’ve not been on a bike since.”

“Would you like to ride pillion on mine,” said Sigmund. “If you’re up for it, I could take you home.”

“Are you keen to have a one-legged man?” said Ronnie.

“Keen?” said Sigmund. “I can’t wait to get you on your own. I’ve loved amputees for as long as I can remember. In fact, I’d love to be one myself, but for now you’re the best thing that’s happened for me for a very long time.”

Ronnie went to pull off his hood, but Sigmund said, “No, keep your hood on. I’m sure my spare helmet will fit over it.”

Sigmund drove slower than Ronnie had been used to, but he explained that he rarely took a pillion for a ride, and he did not feel like the excessive speed he usually took. An hour later saw them outside a modest block of flats in Dulwich. Sigmund pulled the bike onto a hard stand outside the flats and led the way inside. Ronnie followed on his crutches, amazed that his first trip to the Backstreet Club had resulted in such an exciting liaison.

Sigmund’s flat on the ground floor was spacious and furnished in spartan black-and-chrome. He turned to face Ronnie.

“OK Boy. This is my temporary accommodation. I’m planning something much grander, and I’m looking for other men to share it with me. What do you think?”

“I hardly know you,” stuttered Ronnie. “What are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious Boy?” said Sigmund. “I know it’s very sudden, and you’ve had no time to think, but what I’m saying is simple. I want to live in a big house with a few other leather men who are willing to give me, shall I say, certain services. And here’s the catch – they must all be amputees. You’re the first one I’ve found, but I know about two other guys. They’re not amps yet, but they might soon be. You’re gay, you’re obviously wearing expensive tight leather, and you’re an amputee. I’m wealthy, and in exchange for some very kinky sex, I’m offering you a life of your dreams.”

“Well Sigmund,” started Ronnie.

“No,” Sigmund interrupted him, “I’m the master and you will call me Zero at all times when we are in my home. Now kneel down and service my cock.”

Ronnie knelt on his one knee and pulled Zero’s magnificent cock from his tight leathers. With the monster in his mouth, Ronnie began to suck hard. Zero held his head. “That’s right my little cripple boy, you learn to look after your master and you’ll have a wonderful life here with me.”

Eventually they collapsed, still fully leathered, onto the leather sheet of Zero’s bed and Ronnie fell asleep with Zero holding him tight with one hand, whilst the other fondled the exciting place where his leg had been cut off.

The following morning Ronnie woke, discovering himself alone. He had slept all night with his hood and full leathers. He sat up, then grabbing his crutches stood up. The morning light filtered through the Venetian blinds, and he saw the walls covered with erotic pictures, mainly of muscular amputee men. Zero came in with coffee. “Are you liking what you’re seeing?” asked Zero.

“I certainly am. I’ve never seen such a collection of sexy men.”

After a little sexual play, Zero took Ronnie for a short walk. The two were a striking pair in the summer sunshine, both in full leather, and Ronnie walking with his black crutches. It wasn’t far to a street of enormous Victorian houses.

“I’m going to buy one of these,” announced Zero. “That one there, number seven, is for sale, but I’ve not been inside it yet.”

“That will cost a fortune,” said Ronnie.

“I know,” said Zero, “but that’s not a problem.”

A car drew up beside them, and the young driver got out. “Mr Hook?”

“Yes,” said Zero. “that’s me. And this is my young friend Ronnie. You’re here to show us round number seven I think.”

“Yes, sir,” said the young man. Looking at Ronnie, he said, “You might be pleased to know it’s had a lift installed by the previous owner.”

“I saw that from the description you sent me,” said Zero. “Now let’s have a look inside.”

Ronnie was puzzled. The young estate agent had called Zero “Mr Hook”: so his real name was Sigmund Hook. Ronnie had heard that name before, but could bot think where he’d heard, or seen, it.

The house was enormous. “The lift goes right to the top floor, where there is a brilliant penthouse suite, and amazingly down three basement levels as well,” the young man told them.

Ronnie was astonished. “Who lived here before, and dug out all that basement space?”

“He was a Hollywood and television producer,” said the young man. “He lived here with his extended family including, I believe, his elderly mother, for whom the lift was installed. The basement levels were all to do with entertaining. The lowest level is a cinema.”

It took some time for the three to tour the whole building, and Ronnie was particularly pleased with the lift, as he was still rather slow dealing with crutches on stairs.

Eventually they had seen the entire property and were back in the spacious entrance hall. “It’s exactly what I want,” declared Zero, “and I will put an offer in immediately.”

“Will you require a loan?” asked the agent.

“No,” said Zero with a smile. “I’ll be paying cash.”

Back at his apartment, Zero turned to Ronnie.  “Did you like what you saw? Would you like that to be your home?”

“I’m amazed by it,” replied Ronnie. “Can you really afford to pay for it with cash?”

“I’ve been earning very big money for some years, and it’s been accumulating in the bank. I’ve had little expenses for a while, and I’ve lived frugally hoping that one day my dream of a family of gay amputees could come true. It seems to me to be destiny that I have found you the exact same time as I found that house. The two of you will be the foundation of my lifetime project – that’s if you’ll come and live with me.”

“What have I got to lose?” said Ronnie. “I’ve lived alone since my parents threw me out for telling them I’m gay; I have a dead-end job in a petrol station in Deptford, and a miserable bedsit. Ever since my father flew into that great rage, and told me never to return, my life was centred solely on my motorbike. Now I can’t ride any more, I’ve nothing.”

“So you’ll come to me?”

“May I? I’d love to, even though we met for the first time less than 24 hours ago.

“I’m going to take you on one condition,” said Zero, smiling. “You must change your name. You’re a dear sweet young man, but I’ll give you an ironic name. It came to me when you spoke about your father. I’ll call you Rage, as it’s your father’s rage which sent you on your path towards me.”

“Rage?” said Ronnie, thinking about the word. “I like that, sir. Please take me with you to this great new house, and I’ll be Rage for ever more.”

It had been easy for Rage to abandon his old life and his old name. After being thrown out by his parents, he’d been lonely, his only interests being his bike and his leathers. Since losing his leg, he’d been the cashier in a petrol station, and suddenly he was being offered a much better lifestyle.

The purchase of the huge house in Dulwich took some weeks, but eventually was completed. By co-incidence Zero told Rage that he’d been offered an excellent working contract in the USA, so would be away for two months, leaving Rage to mastermind the move to the new house.

Zero reassured him, “It’s the kind of contract no-one would turn down, and the money is extraordinary. I’m already wealthy, but this is a great bonus – and I’m sure organising the move and setting up the new house will keep you fully occupied whilst I’m away, oh, and don’t forget, we’re setting up the house for several more leather amputee guys to join us.”

Zero had a vast collection of records, and an amazing system for playing them. Rage decided he’d need specialist help moving the system and setting it up in the new house. When he started to look through the record collection, he was astonished, as many were recordings made by Zero himself: he discovered that Sigmund Hook was a world-famous conductor, with a string of very successfully recordings.

In the new house, Rage created a luxurious suite of rooms on the top floor for Zero, and a modest bedroom for himself. He arranged for the installation of a professional-style kitchen. He took his cue from Zero’s apartment to buy furniture which was dominantly black leather and chrome, but left several rooms unfurnished. He did not feel competent enough to have the place painted and decorated except for his own room, which he painted grey with boot footprints, right boot only of course, in black. The huge collection of photographs of amputees he saved for Zero to decide where they should be hung.

He also followed Zero’s instruction and ordered four sleek racing wheelchairs to be delivered. He hoped that one of them might be for him, and he enjoyed using it around the house, travelling from floor to floor in the lift.

When Zero returned from the States, he was very pleased with Rage’s progress, and felt trusting the young man had been an excellent idea. Rage confronted him with his knowledge of Sigmund Hook, and Zero smiled and said, “Yes, I am a very successful musician: but I want you to keep this knowledge to yourself. When others join us, I will be mysterious to them in some ways, until the time comes for each of them to discover my success.”

Rage was happy to agree to the secrecy but needed to ask something else. “You’ve spoken about other people joining us, and you mentioned a couple of people before, but said they are not yet amputees.”

“Yes,” said Zero, “I’ve been in touch with a few leather men who are not only attracted to amputees, but also wish to become amputees. There are two in particular: one called Martin, to whom I have given the name “Mane”; and another called Ernest who is happy to be known as “Edge” when he joins us. Their names come from chance remarks in emails we’ve exchange, just as your name Rage came from the conversation you had with me about your father.”

“I’m confused,” said Rage. “You said we’d become a household of amputees, but you said these two men have all their limbs. You can’t just wait for them to have motorbike accidents.”

“No,” explained Zero. “You remember how becoming an amputee was very erotically charged for you?”

“Yes, I’ve loved being disabled from the day it happened.”

“Well both Mane and Edge want to have voluntary amputations. They are choosing to lose a limb, or more.”

“More!” said Rage. “What do you mean?

“Some people want to be completely legless; some people want to lose an arm. Everyone suffering from BIID has their own desire and need.”

“But I’ve been looking at some of the pictures you’ve collected, and I’m very turned on by the legless guys. I’ve fantasised about that. You mean – you’d like to have men here who’d want to lose more than just one leg?”

“Of course I would.”

“Including me?”

“That would be, how shall I say, most satisfactory.”

“But how could it happen?” said an increasingly excited Rage.

“Not easily, or cheaply, or even in the UK at the moment,” said Zero. “I’m constantly thinking about that problem.”

Little did Zero or Rage realise it, but a solution was about to land in their laps. They were relaxing in one of the many large, almost empty rooms, Zero looking through a musical score, and Rage reading the Sunday paper.

“Good lord,” said Rage suddenly, “Listen to this. ‘Eminent surgeon struck off for gross negligence’. It’s the man who chopped off my left leg.”

Zero put down the musical score and turned to Rage. “Read on.”

“Top surgeon Timothy Eastbrook, consultant at Dulwich General Hospital, was today struck off by the General Medical Council for gross negligence. He pleaded guilty to removing the wrong leg of a young cancer patient. When the mistake was noticed, Mr Eastbrook was immediately suspended. The young patient, known only as Simon, was operated on again, and his other, diseased leg removed. With both legs amputated very high up against his pelvis, the young man is destined to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Surgeon Eastbrook had no defence, pleaded guilty and was immediately struck off.”

“Stop!” exclaimed Zero. “That’s our solution. A surgeon, highly skilled in amputations, working not far from here, is struck off and will never work again. That’s just the news I’ve been waiting for.”

Rage looked confused. “What are you talking about sir?”

“If we are extremely careful and discreet, your Mr Eastbrook may be just the man we need to do voluntary amputations. Now what’s the chance that he lives somewhere here in Kent in a big house with a nice little private clinic attached?”

“You mean you could ask him if he’d do, kind of, secret surgery?”

“We must think about this very carefully. We can start by remembering that we have a link to him already – he was your surgeon.”

It was easy for Zero to find Timothy Eastbrook’s address, not in Kent but in Essex, and he arranged an appointment with the former surgeon. Despite thinking that arriving in full bike leathers might be intimidating, Zero stuck to his lifestyle, and with Rage clutching his crutches on the pillion, they rode across Essex to a small town on the coast. Pulling into a gravel drive, they took off their helmets and walked to the wide porch of the big house.

Timothy Eastbrook opened the door himself. “You’re not press, or the media are you?” he asked, “For if you are, I’m shutting the door immediately.”

“Not press, I promise,” said Zero.

“Wait a moment,” said Timothy, looking at Rage, “do I know you? Didn’t I operate on you some time ago. After a nasty road accident?”

“Yes,” said Rage. “My name at that time was Ronnie.”

“You’d better come in.”

It was a big and very old-fashioned house, and Timothy led them into a large room with several floral stuffed armchairs.

“Please do not be nervous,” started Zero. “We know that you’ve been struck off and we have come to discuss a business proposition. “

Zero paused, trying to assess if this surprisingly nervous and subdued man would react favourably to their plan.

“Go on,” said Timothy, hesitantly.

“You’ve heard of BIID I assume,” said Zero.

“Yes,” said Timothy. “It’s quite a serious business. I’m aware that some people are very unhappy with their body as it is and want to change it. It might be a change of gender, and in extreme cases I understand there are people who want an amputation.”

“Exactly,” said Zero. “It helps that you know about it.”

“There was a colleague in Scotland, Dr Smith I think he was, who amputated legs from two or three perfectly healthy men.”

“Yes,” said Zero, “Robert Smith in Falkirk.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” said Timothy.

“Well,” said Zero slowly, “You have all the skills to do amputations; you’re struck off and can no longer work as a doctor…” he paused.

“So would you cut off my right leg?” blurted Rage.

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Timothy. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” said Zero. “This is the business proposition. It will of course be totally secretive and clandestine and we’d work in total confidentiality, but I would bring clients to you, and arrange payment of very generous fees.”

Timothy Eastbrook sat silent and started at the two leather men for some time.

“This is a great surprise and shock. Since being struck off, I’ve being in a kind of limbo, not knowing what would happen in my life. You must let me think about this. There are many practical issues as well as the legal complications. Gentlemen, you must give me time.”

“Of course,” said Zero, “we would expect you to need some time; but think of this: I already know of four amputations waiting to be done, and we’d be paying something like £10,000 for each one.”

Back at the house, Rage and Zero sat over supper thinking about the surgeon’s reaction.

“At least he didn’t say no,” said Rage.

“And he’s got that great big mansion to pay for. I think he needs the money.”

“Telling him the kind of fees he’d earn was a good move,” said Rage. “It will help him overcome his scruples.”

For two days they heard nothing. “We’re in a kind of limbo like he is,” said Rage.

On the third day, the phone rang. “I’m interested,” said Timothy, “but I need a longer and more detailed conversation. Can you come back one day this week?”

“We’ll be there tomorrow.” said Zero. Turning to Rage he said, “I think he’s going to say yes.”

When they returned, Timothy took them into the same lounge as before. They were startled to find another man sitting there waiting for them. “This is Walter Bourne,” said Timothy. “He’s an anaesthetist.”

Standing to greet them, Walter said, “Or used to be. I’ve been out of work for some time, just doing menial jobs, but used to work with Tim years ago.”

“Bourne’s a great chap,” said Timothy, “and I’ve told him what little I know of your so-called business proposition. We’d both like to know more but frankly and to be honest, right now we both need the money.”

Zero smiled. “I think we may be able to come to some kind of arrangement to suit us all.”

“Come through to the office,” said Timothy, “and we’ll talk about it.”

To Zero’s and Rage’s surprise, Timothy led them into a small modern wing of the house. “This was to be my retirement fund,” said Timothy. “But until now it seems redundant. I hoped to set up a little private clinic looking after rich old ladies.”

“Well,” said Zero, “it seems you might be able to have that clinic after all, but it won’t be for old ladies!”

After some considerable discussions, the group was in agreement to go ahead with voluntary amputations, and they talked at some length about the secrecy and confidentiality of the programme. Timothy told them that he would involve his wife as she was an experienced nurse.

Just as they were about to leave, Timothy stopped Zero. “You know,” he said, “through all our discussions I’ve had this feeling that I know you, although it appears to be unlikely.”

“If we are to be open and frank with one another in the future,” replied Zero, “I’d better tell you that I’m known in the musical world as Sigmund Hook.”

“You’re the conductor!” exclaimed Timothy. “I have your complete Beethoven symphonies on disc. Your photo is on the sleeve – so that’s why you’re familiar!”

“I keep my work very separate from other activities,” said Zero. “I like to keep it that way. You’ll always call me Zero, and my friend here is always called Rage.”

“I suppose I’m happy to be Tim,” said the surgeon.

“And I’ve always been Bourne,” said the fourth man, “mainly because I hate being Walter.”

“That’s settled then,” said Zero. “We’ll be in touch.”

At home Zero was reflective. “I’ve worked towards this for a very long time, and it’s all come together quite quickly. I need some thinking time, so I’m not sending you for your second amputation just yet. I’ll contact Martin – he’s been anxious for an amputation for many years. We must see if he’s ready to move into the house, and if he is we’ll send him to Tim first.”

Martin lived some distance from the Dulwich house and said he needed a couple of months to put his affairs in order, resigning his job, selling his house and preparing for the move to Zero. “I hope he’s not changing his mind,” said Zero. “We’ve had many, many long phone calls and he’s always been very adamant that he’s desperate to become an amp. Here’s the plan: we’ll give him two months, then suggest he moves in. Meanwhile, we’ll get the painting and decorating finished in the house, and some more furniture. I want to work on that odd cinema room at the bottom level of the basement and make it into a very special chill out space for all the residents.”

“Is that the chap you called Mane?” asked Rage.

“Yes,” said Zero. “He’s a little older than you, and has talked about becoming a multiple amputee in the long run.”

“Both legs?” said Rage.

“More than that,” said Zero, “both arms and both legs, but not all at once. He wants to lose one limb at a time.”

“I understand that,” said Rage. “I have been thinking in the same way since I moved in here with you.”

“We must always have one man with hands, or at least arms, to help with harder tasks in our daily lives, even if some of our community finish up as torsos.”

Rage and Zero continued this conversation late into the night. Zero declared that eventually he might become an amputee but said that not only his work as a conductor, but also his love of motorbiking was keeping him from getting his own surgery. Rage said that losing one leg had opened up a whole new way of thinking, and he was seriously considering a gradual transformation to being a quad. “That is,” he said, “if this really is my for-ever home, and I will be forever part of this new community.”

Zero kissed him long and hard. “This is your for-ever home,” he declared, “I love to be with you, holding this vulnerable site where your leg used to be, and dominating you. I’m so glad I found you, but you realise we will all have very open relationships with one another. Each time we meet a new man, it’s for sex as much as it is for living a disabled life together.” With his hand cupping the man’s left buttock, Zero and Rage spent much of the night having sex, and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Rage said, “What about that other man you told me about? Edge wasn’t it? Why not contact him?”

“Edge,” said Zero, “yes – there’s no reason why he can’t get involved now. I will call him. “By the way,” he continued, “you know quite a lot about my musical life and how I come to be wealthy. I don’t intend others in our community to know much about it unless it becomes necessary, so please don’t gossip about me behind my back.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Rage. “As you said to Tim, it’s important to keep the different parts of our lives separate. Here we are focussed on being amputated leather men who need to live a fulltime leather lifestyle.”

Ernest was delighted to get Zero’s call, and said his whole life had been on hold waiting for that call. He seemed to be very much in the same situation that Rage had been in and was able to vacate his rented flat with just one week’s notice, and similarly leave his deadly job as a van driver. He asked Zero about the financial situation, and when Zero said everything would be paid for, both his daily living and his amputations, he was overjoyed. “Does that mean I can be a double leg amp straight away?” he asked Zero.

“One at a time,” said Zero, “we mustn’t frighten our new surgeon with a double amputation first time. And anyway, you must enjoy a few weeks on crutches with one leg before we take the other one away.”

“I’ll be with you within a week,” said Edge.

Edge arrived on a small motorbike, and Zero let him wheel it into the garage. Edge was wearing tight bike leathers and a pair of huge boots. Pulling off his helmet, he revealed that he’d been riding with a tight leather hood under the helmet. Zero smiled. “That’s a very good look. Don’t take your hood off.”

“I wasn’t going to,” said Edge. “Now I’ve arrived to your home, I will be wearing it at all times.”

Going through to the kitchen, Zero introduced Rage, who kissed the newcomer. “Welcome,” he said. “I love your hood; do you wear it all the time?”

“It wasn’t possible in my old life,” said Edge, “but I hope it will be acceptable here.”

“Acceptable!” spluttered Zero. “More than that, I think it’s a brilliant look, and I think we should all find hoods which match our personalities, and all wear hoods as much as we want.”

Mane telephoned to arrange his arrival time: but Edge was so impatient to get his first amputation that Zero decided he should go and get the surgery done before Mane arrived.  Mane told them that he’d not sold his car and would come in it. He hoped there’d be somewhere to park it.

Zero travelled with Edge in a taxi to Tim’s. He didn’t intend to accompany every man to the surgeon, but he felt he should be present as reassurance for Tim and Bourne when they embarked on their first surgery.

When Zero got home again at the end of the day, he was able to report to Rage that Edge was sleeping peacefully with a lovely left hip dis amputation, “Just like your’s!”

Edge was home a week later, and quickly up on crutches, with many warnings from Zero to take his time recovering from the amputation. Rage and Edge had a great time examining one another’s scars, which were almost identical. “Not surprising,” said Rage, “considering that the same surgeon did both amps.”

Suddenly the big old house seemed busy, with four leather men sharing the spaces, two of them left-leg amps on crutches. Mane was delighted to be moving in with the others, but very vexed that he still had two legs. “OK,” said Zero, “we’ll get your legs chopped of as soon as we can.”

Edge was young and fit and found using crutches easy – but he was unhappy to still have one leg and was insistent that he should go to the surgeon as soon as Mane returned. Zero telephoned Tim to make sure everything was going smoothly at his end, and that the surgical team were working happily. He was relieved to know that all was satisfactory at the big house in Essex and arranged for Edge’s second amputation.

Mane loved crutching and was interested in Rage’s leathers with the left leg cut off and sewn up. Zero agreed that they needed a good leather worker, especially to create the extremely truncated sewn-up shorts which Edge would soon need. Rage explained how he’d got his leathers adapted.

“When I first had my amputation,” he said, “I took a pair of jeans to a local dry- cleaning shop where there was a young man doing repairs on a sewing machine in the window. He did the jeans very easily but said his machine could not do leather. However, he told me of an elderly lady in New Cross who did leather work. Apparently, she does lots of work for bikers, mainly repairs. I found her and explained what I wanted, and she did an excellent job, as you can see. What’s more, whilst I was there a couple of bikers turned up in their leathers, and she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll go,” said Zero, “and take Mane’s leather jeans. I’ll explain that we might want other rather unusual jobs done in the future.”

Edge’s return to the house was an exciting moment for all four men. He was the first to have more than one amputation and the subject of much admiration and jealousy. It was some time before he was fully able to sit up on his DHD hips, and during this time Zero arranged for his old biker jeans to be truncated as sewn-up leather shorts, matching his legless body.

Occasionally during this time of the early amputations, Zero had been continuing to go to various leather clubs, but rarely made a good contact. He was wondering if he was wasting his time and was on the point of not bothering when he had a most unexpected encounter. Bored by Mile End’s Backstreet, he heard about another leather club which had opened in a cellar in Acton. It was a longer bike ride, but he enjoyed biking so much that it was almost a bonus to go further afield.

He roared along the main road and found the club easily. Pulling off his helmet and tightening the leather hood he wore under it, he went into the club. He was startled to walk straight into a young legless leather man in an immaculate motorcycle jacket which reached to the seat of his wheelchair, showing that he had two very short DHD amputations. Calming himself, he sipped a drink and observed the young blond boy. After a while, he walked over to him. Realising he couldn’t have a conversation towering over the man’s wheelchair, he knelt beside him. “I’m new here,” he said. “Have you been coming for long?”

“It was about three years ago: I came here as soon as I dared – in fact I was underage, but no-one minded. I’d been regular here for almost a year when I got the cancer. Bone cancer in my left leg.”

Zero could hardly believe what he was hearing. “But you’re a double amp,” he said. “Was the cancer in both legs?”

“No,” said the boy. “But the surgeon chopped off the wrong one. They then cut of the other one that had the cancer. There was a big stink, and I think the surgeon got struck off.”

Zero struggled to remain his usual cool self. “I think I read about you in the paper,” he said.

“Yes,” said the blond, “I was quite a celebrity for a while. My mum and dad were pretty mad, and I never explained that I didn’t mind. I’d been dreaming of being a DHD for years since I’d seen one on Waterloo Station when I was about ten years old. Secretly, I was pleased.”

“I’m called Zero,” said the older man.

“I’m Simon,” said his new friend.

“I know this is a gay club,” said Zero, “so how did your parents react to having a gay cripple for a son?”

“It’s not good at home,” said Simon. “I can hardly move without they’re over-protective of me. Right now, they think I’m at a friend’s house, where they dropped me off earlier. Actually, I just keep my leather jacket there, and get a taxi to here. My friend covers for me but it’s not a very good arrangement.”

“Could you tell your parents that you’re staying overnight with your friend?”

“That’s no problem, as I often do stay there.”

“How about going to your friend’s and leaving your wheelchair there and coming on my pillion back to my place tonight?”

Simon looked at the handsome man making the surprising offer but didn’t hesitate. “Not half! I’ve been sitting here waiting to be picked up for weeks,” he said, looking into the eyes of the hooded man. “No-one else has been interested in a legless man.”

“Well, I’m very interested,” smiled Zero.

A couple of hours later, Zero roared into his garage. Simon was surprised to see three wheelchairs in the garage, and Zeal lifted him in one of them, and pushed him to the lift. “This is amazing,” said Simon.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, lovely boy,” laughed Zero.

The others had gone to bed, so Zero took in the lift up to the top floor and into his private bedroom. “Stay in your jacket,” instructed Zero. “I just want to hug and kiss you, and let you fall asleep in my arms.”

“Will you stay in your leathers and keep your hood on?” asked Simon.

“I always do,” said Zero, picking up the legless boy and laying him on the bed. “You really are very pretty.”

“I know,” said Simon, “but it’s great to have someone say it.”

“And tomorrow you will wake with a new name and meet my friends who live here with me.”

“A new name?” asked Simon. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, but you won’t be Simon when you wake up.”

The following morning, Rage knocked on the door with a morning juice for Zero. “Why hello,” he said to Simon, “and who are you?”

“This is Zeal Bones,” said Zero quickly. “I don’t know if he’ll join our community, but I’m hoping so. You and he have something very special in common.”

Zeal sat up. “Whatever can that be? I’ve never met this chap before.”

Zero laughed. “Zeal,” he said, “meet Rage, the first of our community here; and the thing you have in common is your surgeon. Rage’s left leg was cut off by the same man who cut off both of yours.”

“And, I hope,” continued Rage, “will soon take my right leg and give me a body rather like yours.”

“I’m sorry to say,” said Zeal, “that although your masks are very exciting, I’m finding it quite unnerving to wake up and be faced with two people with faces I’ve not seen.”

Rage smiled. “We take our masks off for breakfast, so if you would like to join us, you can meet us all.”

“Take him to the kitchen,” said Zero. “I’ll join you shortly.”

Zeal hand-walked to the wheelchair and followed Rage to the lift. Over breakfast, the men removed their masks and Zeal met Edge and Mane.

“How long have you been DHD?” Zeal asked Edge.

“Only a month,” said Edge. “And you?”

“Six months. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“But I’ve not finished yet,” said Edge. “Give me a few weeks, and I’m having my hands taken.”

“How are you people organising to get amputations on demand?” asked Zeal.

“Because of you,” said Zero maskless, as he came into the room. The others looked at him in bewilderment, and Zero laughed. “You remember a scandal in the papers some months ago, when a certain surgeon cut off the wrong leg?”

They nodded. “Well, here he is, the boy who got the wrong leg chopped off. And then the right leg, which was the left, had to come off because of cancer, and here he is.”

“So,” said Edge, “we’ve all had the same surgeon.”

“But I still don’t understand,” said Zeal. “How has it been possible?”

“We will tell you a very confidential story,” said Zero, “but only if you decide to stay with us. Edge, as the other wheelchair user, perhaps you’d like to give our new young man a guided tour. Tell him what it’s like to live here. He has a difficult and important decision to make.”

With Edge taking Zeal on the tour, Zero turned to Rage and Mane. “I think he’ll stay. He’s gay and a leather man, even if he’s a bit inexperienced, and he told me how much he loves being a cripple, even though he pretended he was mortified when it happens. And I think his home life is very unhappy.”

“Poor kid,” said Rage. “We know what that’s like.”

It was some time before Edge returned with Zeal. “This place is wonderful,” said Zeal. “Edge says I might be able to move in here.”

“You might,” said Zero. “I’d like you to go and hang out in the cinema room downstairs, and let me talk with the others for a few moments.”

With Zeal out of the way, Zero turned to the others. “Well?”

“He’s very cute,” said Edge, “and has lovely amputations.”

“Being cute is not a reason to invite him,” said Zero.

Rage laughed, “No, but it helps.”

Mane looked thoughtful. “Whenever someone new comes into the house, it’s a risk. We have to hope that they can maintain the secrecy of our lifestyle; we have to assume that their love of amputations will thrive here, and we have to believe that they will not upset the balance of our friendships and relationships.”

“Exactly,” said Zero, “and for all those reasons I have a gut feeling that this kid will be a great addition to our community. With your agreement, I’ll invite him. Mane, would you like to go and find him and see how he feels about coming. He’s got to make the break from very doting parents, and just for safety’s sake we must get proof of his age.”

Later that day, Zero took Zeal back to his friend’s house, and his wheelchair which had been left there. Zeal explained that he would simply vanish out his parents’ life. “If I tell them I’m moving out, all hell will let loose and I’ll be kept a prisoner. I’ll say I’m going to my friend for a couple of days, they’ll be OK with that, and I’ll just have basic stuff like my passport, and very little else. If someone can pick me up in a car so I can bring my wheelchair, I’ll join you tomorrow.”

“Mane’s got a car, an automatic thankfully, so he can come and get you from your friend. Are you sure about this?”

“Never surer about anything. You are saving my life.”

So it was that four became five, and Zeal delighted in become a fulltime mask wearer like the others.

A few days later, Zero asked for them all to join him in the kitchen for a ‘family talk’. “I’ve asked to you come for several reasons. First, I called this a ‘family talk’ because that’s what we are, and I hope you all feel the same. I’m master to you all, and will always maintain a little distance between us; but nevertheless we are a family.” They murmured agreement. “And I think we must be clear about how this family works. I know that some of you, perhaps all of you, want more amputations, and I don’t mind you knowing that eventually I will be joining you in that. It’s only for professional reasons, the work that brings in the wealth that keeps this place going, that I cannot have an amputation yet. But we must all look to the future. I believe that we must have a designated housekeeper, and a cook. These people must be helped by others, but they will take charge of that part of the running of the family that they’re asked to do. You will all, of course, do what you can to help one another. I also feel that whatever amputations you need in the future, we must always have at least one member of our community with two hands, or at least the means to carry out their duties efficiently.”

Mane spoke first. “I’ll be the first cook. I know I am a good cook, and so far I’ve enjoyed helping in the kitchen. You know I want to have second leg taken off soon, but I’m sure I will be able to run the kitchen on crutches as I am now, and from a wheelchair in the future.”

Rage smiled. “You’ve already proved you can cook, definitely better than me, so welcome to your kitchen. For myself, I’m the obvious one to be the housekeeper as it was me who did a lot of work setting the place up when Zero was away working. So I’ll be housekeeper, at least at first, but you know I want my second leg gone eventually, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to do everything from a wheelchair.”

“That’s the point,” said Zero. “I know you all want further changes to your bodies, and the implication of that is to recruit further able-bodied leather men who perhaps would like eventually to get an amputation, but who will work for us all for some time.”

“I feel bad not volunteering,” said Edge, “but you know I want to get my next adjustments done as soon as possible.  I’d like to get my arms taken off above my elbows.”

Zero smiled. “That’s exactly why we’re here, and why I’m setting up the house this way. It’s not selfish to want to achieve you desired body. I’ve a feeling that quite a lot of hands and arms will be removed in the coming years, leaving several of you in need of considerable help for daily living.”

“I’ve a suggestion,” said Zeal hesitantly, “I can’t cook, my mother would not let me near her kitchen and I’ve very few practical skills, but I used to like sewing. Why even recently, recovering from my double amp, I did some embroidery. If you can get a suitable sewing machine, I’ll have a go at learning to sew leather. I’d like to do that, and I’d be feeling as if I’m contributing.”

“Rage will set up a little workshop for you,” said Zero kindly. “I’ve worried about getting unusual leather work done, and you’ve offered a most unexpected solution.”

“It might take me a while to learn,” said Zeal, “but I’ll have a go.”

“Now you realise that to keep this ship afloat, I have to go to work, and I need to tell you that I’m leaving next week for three weeks, touring in Europe. And after our very useful conversation, I’ll put a spanner in the works, by taking our housekeeper with me.”

Rage spluttered, “Wow, are you sure?”

“Sooner or later, I’ll take you all somewhere, and it seems only fair that this first chance should go to Rage, who got left behind to work when I went on my last big trip. Now hoods on and enjoy your day everyone, and make sure you all look out for one another.”

Leaving Mane and Edge to source a sewing machine for Zeal, Zero and Rage set off on their trip. Rage knew from the extensive collection of records that Zero was a prolific and successful conductor, but he had no idea how significant his friend was. “I used to tour constantly,” Zero told him when they were settled on the Eurostar to Amsterdam, “but recently I’ve cut down my concert hall appearances. My wealth comes from the recordings, and this flows in without too many live performances. You’re in a for a few big events in the next weeks, but I’d prefer you didn’t tell the others at the house. Their times will come, but for now this is just for you.”

“What do I call you during this trip?” said Rage.

Zero smiled. “The same as everyone else, of course: Maestro!”

Rage had never experienced such a whirlwind of concert halls and grand hotels. He was astonished that people seemed to know Zero wherever he went. From the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, via the Philharmonie and the Konzerthaus in Berlin, they completed the tour with a sell-out performance at the Auditori in Barcelona. Rage discovered how much he enjoyed being out and about on his crutches, but nevertheless continued to harbour the ambition of losing his right leg sometime soon.

Meanwhile, Mane and Edge had purchased an alarming-looking sewing machine for Zeal, and he had been struggling to master it. Mane had kept the left legs he’d cut off several pairs of leather trousers, and Zeal had had a lot of fun attempting to make new hoods. Although his initial efforts were hilarious, he was gradually mastering the machine, and felt ready to try making some basic leather tee-shirts from some of the roll of black skins he’d found on the internet.

The day after Zero and Rage had returned home, Edge took Zero to one side. “I’d like a little private talk about Zeal,” he said.

At first Zero was alarmed. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” said Edge, “far from it; but Zeal wants to come clean about his desired modifications, and he’s nervous you may not approve. I’ve told him not to worry, but he’s still fearful of your reaction.”

“Whatever does he want that I might not like?” said Zero.

“He must tell you himself, but I’ve reassured him it’s going to be OK with you.”

Zero relaxed a little and said, “Ask him to come up to my room.”

Zeal knocked on the door and rolled into Zero’s room. The big man picked up Zeal in his arms and gave him a huge bear hug. “Now listen: you must never worry about being truthful now you live with us in this house. I cannot imagine what you want, but it’s unlikely to be a shock to me, nor a problem.”

“Well,” began Zeal, “I want to lose my cock and balls, and become a smooth nullo; more than that I’d like the surgeon to create an artificial vagina from the tissue of my cock. I just want a lovely deep hole to offer to all you beautiful men I live with. I want to lay back and offer my legless cock-less arse and feel the deep penetration of your cocks.”

Zero kissed Zeal long and hard.  “Well, to be honest, I didn’t see that coming, and it is rather surprising; but it would be a new sensation for all of us if you are certain it’s what you want, if it’s a way you’d like to offer your body to us.”

“I’ve been worried you might think it’s too outrageous.”

“Look around you and think of the future; nothing could ever be too outrageous in this house,” smiled Zero. “Now let’s both go downstairs and talk openly together about your plan.”

There was a warm feeling amongst the men as they sat around the kitchen table chewing over Zeal’s plan. “How soon?” asked Edge. “Before my surgery or after?”

“Definitely after,” said Zeal, “because I’m determined to become an efficient worker on the leather sewing machine, and whilst I learn, I can dream of my future surgery.”

“And anyway,” said Zero, “there is the practical fact of the surgeon doing something that may not be in his experience. He might need some time to do some homework himself.”

“Great,” said Edge, “because the time has come for me to become a quad. I want both arms taken off leaving just short stubs. I know it will leave me dependent upon you to do a great deal for me, but I hope this is the kind of thing we’re living here for.”

“Most certainly,” said Zero. “You must realise that as a quad we will all want to have sex with you, and you will not be in a position to stop us. This is the kind of thing we’re here for, and I’ve a feeling that once we have one quad in the house, there will be others following.”

“Shit,” said Rage, “with all this erotic talk, I really need someone to suck me off.”

“Put me down on the floor,” said Zeal, “and I’ll be happy to oblige – but I hope you’re ready for it to take a very long time.”

“Hold it a moment,” said Zero. “Didn’t we say at one stage that we’d not have sex in the kitchen?”

“Rules are made to be broken,” said Edge. “I’m going down there and having a chew on Zeal’s cock – after all we’ve got to make the most of it before he gets it cut off.”

“I’m going to my room,” said Zero grandly. “Don’t forget, Rage my dear man, that now you’re home, you’re back to being housekeeper, so you’ll be responsible for any mess that anyone happens to make on the kitchen floor.”

A week later, Edge’s arms were amputated a few centimetres above his elbows. He was in the surgeon’s care for a week, and then returned to the house heavily bandaged, but wearing a broad smile. “Perfect,” he said. “I can’t express how I feel, but it’s just perfect.”

Rage and Mane exchanged a knowing look and nodded to one another in recognition of their own ambitions.

A few days later, Zero asked for another ‘family talk’, and they all gathered in the kitchen. “Boys,” he started, “I want you all to know how happy I am in the way our community, our family, is developing; but there’s an issue we cannot escape. We need to find some more residents. Now that Edge has reached his perfection, we are confronted by the reality of our needs and desires. I’ve noticed the way you two, Rage and Mane, are looking at Edge. I can see that he represents the torso perfection that you’d like, and I’ve a feeling that you, Zeal, have similar thoughts.” The men all nodded seriously. “So,” continued Zero, “we must think things through. I’ve not invited you to share my home so that I can finish up as a nurse-maid wiping the arses of four torsomen. We need a cook and we need a housekeeper. Whilst you have enough limbs to fulfil such duties, we can survive, but we also need physical help. Wiping arses isn’t a joke, it’s a reality, as you’ve discovered with Edge so before we have any more amputations, we have to find new recruits.”

Rage spoke up, “Of course you’re right, Zero, but we can’t just recruit any random men. Not only must they be committed leather men, but they must harbour deep understanding of the desire for amputation, and perhaps need to become amputees themselves.”

“Exactly,” said Zero, “which brings me to the point. I suggest that both you Rage, and Mane, embark upon visits to leather clubs to see if we can find new members for our family.”

“We don’t just want to entice men just for the sake of them having a wank at the sight of Edge,” said Mane. “We need deeply committed, strongly understanding leather men, who’d like to lose a limb or two, and would be happy to provide essential personal services to those of us who in the end will be torsos.”

“I’d like to join in as well,” said Zeal, “at least until I become a nullo.”

“And I,” said Edge, “although I don’t think I can go on my own. With one of you with me, there’s sure to be someone who gets very excited to meet a torso.”

“So that’s the plan,” said Zero, “and hopefully at the same time, you’ll enjoy spending time in the clubs. Full leather, and masks on. Mane, we’ll use your car to ferry the others with their wheelchairs to various club nights and see who takes the bait.”

Rage had been to the Backstreet Club in Mile End before, and was keen to go again. Mane dropped him off and watched him crutch into the club, and then drove to the club in Acton where Zero had found Zeal. Both men were the centre of attention at the clubs, and could easily find other leather men keen to have sex with them.

Rage was approached quickly by a tall man who started by feeling the sexy space under Rage’s left hip where his left leg used to be. “Do you like me to feel you like that?” said the tall man.

“I certainly do,” said Rage, “and you can go a great deal further than just feeling my amp scar.” The two men enjoyed the casual sex which was so rife in the club, and then drifted apart. Rage realised that anyone who might one day move into their house would have to show much more commitment.

Mane’s experience was similar. Several leather men were keen for casual sex with a cripple, but none obviously obsessed with amputation the way he was. One hunk was keen to dominate Mane, so Mane tried out the hunk’s limit: “Do you like my amputation?” he said.

“Um,” said the hunk with his mouth full of Mane’s cock.

“I’m getting the other leg cut off soon,” said Mane.

The hunk spluttered. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” laughed Mane. “Just think what it will be like when I’m in a wheelchair, or down on the floor with my mouth just at the right height for your cock!”

Standing up abruptly, the hunk brought his face very close to Mane’s. “You are one very badly kinky man,” he said.

“I know,” said Mane, “and I always will be.”

The next day in the kitchen the men compared notes. “There’s no hurry,” said Zero. “I never expected you to find someone on the first try. Getting Zeal so quickly and easily was very surprising. We must take our time, and make sure we find the right men.”

“I can’t wait for that,” said Mane. Please Zero, get my leg off quickly, as soon as possible.”

“No problem,” said Zero. “I’ll get an appointment for you for next week, and in the meantime, you’d better get hand controls fitted to your car.”

Mane’s right leg was removed a few days later, and as with all voluntary amps, he made a speedy recovery. After a week’s recuperation, he was determined to drive himself home from the surgeon, and arrived rather exhausted from the effort, but in one diminished piece back at the house. Rage was particularly pleased to see him home, “As now you can get back to the cooking. I’ve done most of it for the week you’ve been away as Zeal is obsessed with his sewing.”

“And made some wonderful hoods and started on shirts,” said Edge. “I’ll be first with an armless shirt. I’m very excited to have custom clothes. I really hate these old arms on my shirts flapping about emptily.”

It was nearly three months before they found a potential new resident. Zeal and Mane had gone together to the Acton club, this time without hoods. The hunk Mane had seen there before was still hanging around. “Fuck, mate, you really did get your leg off,” he said.

“Of course,” said Mane. “I wasn’t joking. And this is my mate Simon. He’s been here before.”

“That was a long time ago,” said Zeal. “We live in the same house.”

“And we both love our leglessness,” said Mane. “We are both thinking about losing a hand or even two.”

“You’re even madder than I thought,” said the hunk, walking away.

Zeal and Mane were aware that another man had been watching in the near darkness. Mane looked at him directly and smiled. The man walked over and knelt down to talk to the two wheelers.

“I can’t help staring,” said the man. “Do you really enjoy being without legs?”

“Yes, both of us.”

There was a long pause, as the man struggled to find words to express himself. “Would you be very insulted or upset if I said I am really jealous of you, and would love to have my legs cut off, to be a double amputee like you.”

Mane and Zeal looked at one another, and then back at the men.

“Do you really mean it, or are you just turned on my what you see?”

“I really mean it,” said the man. “I’ve been searching the internet for years, finding photos of legless men; and I don’t just envy them, I desperately want to be like them.”

“I’m Mane,” said Mane, “and my friend here is Zeal.”

“I’m Ken King,” said the man. “It’s fantastic to have met you.”

“Come outside and sit in my car,” said Mane, “and we can talk privately.”

Mane and Zeal stowed their wheelchairs in the boot, and climbed into the front seats, turning to face Ken who they told to sit on the back seat. “You can just turn right round like that,” said Ken.

“Of course we can,” said Zeal. “There’s no legs in the way.”

“Are you sure it’s OK for me to speak openly? You won’t be upset?” said Ken.

“Stop being so worried,” said Mane. “We both love our bodies as they are now, and we are both likely to get further modifications. You’re not going to say anything that upsets us, or even surprises us.”

“Have you done anything about getting an amputation?” said Zeal.

“In a way,” said Ken. “I had all my teeth removed and I wear dentures. I know it’s nothing like your kind of amputation, but it was a start to getting my body modified.”

“I’m thinking of getting my teeth out,” said Mane. “I like the idea of dentures.”

“But if you had the chance, what else would you like done?” said Zeal.

“My body should be short above knee stumps so that I could wear stubbies, and both hands removed so I could have hooks.”

“You sound as if you’ve thought about this a lot,” said Mane. “Tell us more about yourself.”

“I’m a chef,” said Ken, “and I’m good at it, but my life is obsessed with amputation. Many is the time I’ve stood in my kitchen with a big meat cleaver and contemplated chopping one hand.”

Mane laughed. “A chef – hurrah!” Ken frowned, but Mane said, “All will be explained later.”

The conversation continued for most of the night, and eventually Mane drove home with Zeal asleep beside him, and a very excited Ken King unable to sleep on the back seat.

Zero took Ken to his private rooms, and the two were in deep conversation. When they returned to the kitchen, Zero said, “Meet Stub. It was easy to find him a new name as he wants four stubs, and to walk on stubbies. He’s going to need a few days to sort out his affairs but will be joining us full time next week.”

“And I hope you’ll be our new cook,” said Mane delightedly, “so that I can get my arms off, and become the total torso I’ve dreamed of becoming.”

“Hang on a minute,” said Rage. “I’ve been here longer than anyone, and yet I’m still just the one-leg man I’ve been for ages. I love being with you all, and I’m very content being the housekeeper, but I’m as anxious as any of you to get my leg off, and then progress towards being limbless.”

Zero smiled a rare smile. “Your time will come, dear Rage. We all respect your desires and needs as much as any of us but be patient. What’s another few months compared to the lifetime of being a torso that you desire?” 

Just as planned, Stub returned a week later with his stock of leather clothes and little else. The others questioned him about being toothless, and Mane was very keen to follow that idea.

The next few months saw the happy residents of Zero’s big house gradually becoming the bodies they yearned for. Zeal worked hard at the leather work machine and started producing some excellent jerkins, hoods and stump sheaths. He also discussed having his hands amputated and worked out ways of using the machine. He would always need someone to help occasionally, but he was confident he’d remain productive without his hands, and that he’d love to learn to use body-controlled hooks.

With Stub taking over duties in the kitchen, Mane progressed to his dream configuration: completely limbless and toothless. He asked Zeal to make him a hood without a mouth, representing his loss of teeth, and he loved the moment after breakfast each day when Rage laced him tightly into his hood.

Edge surprised them all by talking about an old obsession, the sexual thrill of breath control. He said he was greatly excited by the idea of having to work hard to breathe; he saw it as the ultimate disability after becoming a torso. With help from everyone, Zeal crafted a leather hood connected by a tube to a gas mask. The hood was extremely close-fitting, and Edge’s breath came only through the gas mask, which was ‘doctored’ to make Edge’s breathing a constant challenge. For an hour each morning, he would breathe normally, before being strapped into his tight hood. Thereafter the others would hear him working to maintain his breathing through the gas mask. His life was constantly challenging for him, trapped in his limbless body, struggling to breathe. He was in heaven.

Before finally getting his hands cut off, Zeal made a stock of spare hoods, and took Rage to one side to ask if he had any special request. “I’ll wear a simple hood whilst I have three limbs and continue to be the housekeeper, but please make me a hood without eyes holes. Once I’ve achieved being a torso, I’ll give up my sight for most of the day. Just as Edge is fulfilled by having to struggle to breathe, so I want to be blind. It will be the ultimate disability for me. When Edge is being strapped into his forced breathing mask each day, I’ll be strapped into blindness. I’m even hoping that the time will come when I remain blind of many days and nights without any respite. Perhaps one day I’ll be permanently blind.”

Stub didn’t want leg amputations as severe as the others as he was very anxious to learn to walk on stubbies. He told them about a young man he’d seen when he was still a boy, and the image had remained with him ever since, driving the desire to be DAK. He also believed he could operate well as their cook without hands, and Zeal created leather sheaths to wear on his arm stumps. Zeal himself was dissatisfied by his long arms with stumps where his wrists used to be, and having become proficient with hooks, determined that he'd have much shorter stumps, and longer prosthetic arms.

It was a long time before Zero recruited the next resident, bur finally he brought home a young Finnishman called Johan. There was only the slightest hint of an accent which the others considered to be very sexy. Zero christened him Mylo but warned him that he’d have to wait a while before getting the amputations he yearned for. “Rage has been waiting a very long time,” said Zero,” and I’ve promised him his amputations as soon as a new housekeeper has been found. Now is his time.”

Rage had set out a strict timetable for his modifications. After all the months and years with crutches and walking on his right leg, that would go first; then he’d have exactly three months as a wheelchair user, before having his left arm taken – an amputation not only of his whole arm, but also his shoulder and shoulder blade removed. He determined he’d have another exact three months, and then the other arm and shoulder would go. As a completely limbless torso with no remnants of legs or arms, he’d have three more months before adopting his blind hood, finally becoming the total helpless cripple he’d dreamed of being.

Mylo settled happily into his role as housekeeper and also loved all the physical chores servicing the other men. Zero allowed him to have his left hand chopped off, and he quickly mastered his new hook, but for a while he had to be content with just that one amputation. He admired Stub’s leg stumps, and was sure he could continue to be an efficient and reliable housekeep if he had just one leg on the right, and a pegleg on the left. Zero eventually relented to Mylo’s pleas, and his left leg disappeared. 

The torsos, Rage, Edge and Mane settled into their ultimate forms as extremely disabled men: Mane with his toothless mouth, Edge struggling for every breath through his gas mask, and Rage almost permanently blind. Zeal’s male vagina was used very regularly, and he loved the sight and feel of his smooth crotch, and the excitement of feeling the other men’s cocks deep inside him. Life in the leather house was one of constant sex, with variations of positions and combinations of bodies far beyond the imagination of any outsider.

 

DESIRED BODIES