The Search

 

THE SEARCH

A tale of deviant desire by strzeka

 

Jared Hart glanced at his watch. Eight thirty. It was late enough. It would take forty minutes to get to the centre of town by tram, assuming one arrived fairly soon. He put his favourite pullover on, burgundy red with a thick polo neck. It pushed his beard forward a little and made him look more assertive. He thought about doing without his hook again this time but had learned his stump was inconvenient on nights out. He placed his fake hand onto his arm and pulled the sleeve of his pullover down over it. It was a pretty good disguise. Jacket on. All ready! Jared dashed down the stairs and across to the tram stop. He could see the headlights of one approaching.

 

Jared had only recently started going out again in the evenings. Twice, sometimes three times a week, he would drop in to a bar after work, usually between eight and nine, or get home early, change clothes and go back downtown. He had more time since his last boyfriend moved out. They were still friends but rarely met. Jared suspected that his maiming had a lot to do with it. He had been part of a mountaineering club and five of the group had taken part in an expedition to the Eiger in Switzerland. An unexpected storm had caught them unawares, if not unprepared, but its duration was such that all five succumbed to frostbite. Jared had at least kept his feet, although they were extremely sensitive to chill, but his left hand was rendered useless and he had lost the fingers and thumb on his right hand down to the first joints. Sitting on the tram, he subconsciously placed his finger stumps into the embrace of his cosmetic hand.

 

Jared was on the look-out for a flat-mate. Someone who was thoughtful and house-trained, who was reliable with the rent and was not an alcoholic party animal. If there was anything more to such a relationship, it would be a welcome bonus. Jared had long ago stopped searching for a female partner, reluctantly accepting that he could never forge a satisfying relationship with a woman. His gay side was too powerful. Life with Brian had been reassuring and comfortable until the expedition. Brian had been more distant after that, wary of how to behave around and what to say to a lover who sported a steel hook most days and whose other hand looked pretty awful too. He moved out six months later and after living alone for four years, Jared was beginning to feel lonely. He was still young at thirty-four, he thought. Not the best catch maybe but presentable enough and he thought himself reasonable and friendly, easy to live with. He had put up with Brian’s quirks well enough.

 

He left the tram in the town centre and made his way to Leguana, his favourite mid-town haunt. Jake was on shift behind the bar, which was good because they got on well and had good banter between them. Jake asked once and once only what had happened to Jared’s hands. He was wearing his hook one evening after work.

            – Frostbite.

Jake nodded and never mentioned the matter again. He went up ten points in Jared’s estimation. There were little things Jake did for Jared which he did not do for other patrons. If Jared ordered a beer and the glass was slippery with droplets of condensation, Jake wiped the glass so it would not slip in Jared’s hook. He placed his drinks to Jared’s left. Small demonstrations of thoughtfulness which Jared appreciated. Tonight, Jared ordered a lager and swapped a few non‑consequential titbits of news with Jake. Jared used his silicon hand to support the glass as he pressed against it from the opposite side with his maimed hand. It was a little precarious. Maybe he should have worn the hook. His finger stumps were generally quite useful and, of course, they had the advantage of feeling. But regardless of how wide he spread them, they would not extend far enough to hold a pint of lager.

 

Jared was on his second beer when another loner entered the bar and looked around for a place to sit. There were no completely empty tables but there were still a couple of bar stools free. The newcomer glanced at Jared, nodded briefly, sat two stools away and ordered a beer from Jake. He checked his phone and pulled out his debit card to pay. He thanked Jake and swung around holding his glass, surveying the room as if he were looking for someone. Jared took another swig in his odd two-handed fashion, which the newcomer noticed. A few moments’ perusal satisfied him that the man’s left hand was prosthetic. That was interesting. He hoped he could exchange a few words with the man. He had a deeply seated obsession with men wearing artificial limbs and had learned not to make it obvious in any way. Amputees usually hated devotees.

 

It was Jake’s absent-mindedness which provided an opening. Both Jared and his neighbour ordered fresh drinks at the same time, another lager and a dark ale. Jake served them the wrong beers and hurried to the end of the bar to check on his colleague. Both men looked at their fresh drinks in surprise and then realised at the same time what had happened. They laughed and the neighbour got off his stool to bring Jared his lager. Jared dared not fumble with the ale.

            – First time that’s happened. I’m sorry.

            – No, it’s fine. Let me reach that ale. I saw you’re inconvenienced.

            – That’s one way of putting it. Go ahead.

            – Thanks.

            – Why don’t you move up one and sit here?

            – OK, fine. It looks like I’ve been stood up so it would be good to have some company.

He rearranged the two adjacent stools and slid in next to Jared.

            – My name’s Callum Stevens.

Jared swung around to offer his maimed right hand. He held it out and Stevens instinctively took hold of it.

            – Jared Hart. Pleased to meet you.

Stevens immediately sensed the missing fingers. He had not noticed that the man’s other hand was also a collection of stumps.

            – Oh! Excuse me! I wasn’t expecting that.

            – Sorry. It’s such a reflex action but it seems churlish not to shake. I know it upsets some people.

            – Just a bit surprising. I noticed your left hand is artificial.

            – Yeah. I should have worn my hook. Would make things a bit easier.

            – Like holding a pint. Yeah, I suppose it would. Do you always drink lager?

            – Yeah. I prefer the lighter taste. Ales often leave an after taste which gets old quickly.

            – They do, quite often. This one’s not too bad. Not so much alcohol either. I don’t mind a drink now and then but I don’t like to get drunk after a couple of beers.

            – No, neither do I. Well, cheers. Your good health.

Jared turned to envelop his glass again between his deviant hands. Stevens watched with more open interest but said nothing.

            – Cheers, Callum.

They quaffed a mouthful of their preferred beers, their minds racing to come up with a subject of conversation. Jared started.

            – I almost stayed home this evening but it was such a dismal prospect that I put my coat on and came downtown again.

            – Yeah, I know what you mean. I was doing a bit of overtime, trying to catch up on emails. I thought I’d have a couple before going home. I just broke up with someone so it’s a bit empty and barren at home at the moment.

            – My boyfriend got sick of the sight of these…

Jared raised his hands.

            – …and left me to it after about six months. Well, it’s my flat so it’s not a problem in that sense.

            – Honestly? He actually left you because of that?

            – Well, he didn’t actually state it in as many words but the relationship changed as soon as I was patched up. I was home from the hospital within a week as an outpatient.

            – I’ve heard they don’t let you hang around these days.

            – They need the beds. Anyway, after that, he didn’t want to be touched and one thing led to another. He put up with me for a while, so I shouldn’t bad-mouth him all that much. He was a lot of help when I was recovering.

            – That’s too bad. It’s a shitty thing to be dumped because of something which isn’t your fault in any way.

            – Yeah, I suppose so. I was pissed off at first but I’ve more or less got used to getting home to an empty flat. Tonight it just seemed a bit too bleak. What is it you do? Where are these urgent emails going?

            – I’m an engineer at a little company which makes sensors for weather balloons. We export everywhere and as the junior on the team I get to deal with the queries. I can get through about eight emails on average per hour but I’ve got a hundred and five yet to get through.

            – Oh wow! That’ll take you a month.

            – It’s not that bad. Some of them I can forward to senior staff members.

            – I bet they have a hundred and five to answer as well.

            – Ha! I wouldn’t be surprised. Where do you work?

            – I’m a civil engineer. I work for the council these days on re-pedestrianisation of the town centre and rearranging traffic flow to favour light traffic rather than cars.

            – That sounds interesting.

            – Yeah, it is but there is so much opposition to fight against. People really don’t want to have to give up their cars, even though parking charges are sky-high and have been for years. They just bitch about it instead of getting on a bus or tram to come downtown.

            – The new trams are great. It was such a mistake to get rid of the old network, and we lost the trolleybuses as well.

            – They might make a comeback soon too, if the plans go through. There are parts of town where trams can’t reach because of the terrain but trolleys would be great.

            – I hope we get trolleys again. I’ve ridden on trolleybuses in Switzerland, in Geneva. Such a smooth quiet ride.

            – Ah, Switzerland. That’s where this happened.

Jared once again lifted his hands to demonstrate what he was referring to. Callum indicated he wanted to feel the left prosthesis.

            – May I? Oh, this is quite rigid. Is it silicon? It feels very smooth.

            – Yes, it’s silicon. I have to be careful because it gets damaged very easily. It’s just a so‑called cosmetic hand. Meant to look like a real one. I suppose it does for a couple of seconds until you realise that no-one in their right mind ever holds their hand like that.

            – No, I guess not. I noticed it because the fingers didn’t grip your glass.

            – Yeah, they can’t move. But it’s useful to support things with or press buttons with. It’s good at summoning lifts.

            – Ha! I suppose so. I must say, you seem to be very comfortable with it.

            – I only wore it this evening because it doesn’t look as shocking as my hook. That’s what I usually wear.

            – And a hook is more practical, I suppose?

            – Much more. It’s probably more useful than the stumps on my right hand but of course it can’t feel anything. That’s more or less the reason the doctors gave for not cutting my other hand off as well.

            – What actually happened? You don’t mind me asking, do you?

            – No, it’s OK. I was with a group of amateur mountaineers trying the south face of the Eiger in Switzerland and we’d got about halfway and made camp for the night. Then this god almighty storm started up instead of the predicted snowstorm which we expected and the temperature dropped to minus twenty-four. To cut a long story short, the wind whipped our tents away and a lot of our supplies and it didn’t let up for three days by which time half of us had severe frostbite. I won’t go into details but I got off lightly. Three of the others lost their hands and feet. I just lost a hand and my fingers.

            – Do they hurt?

            – No, not any more. My feet and these stumps are very sensitive to cold. Even holding this lager is cold enough to make my hand uncomfortable.

            – That’s too bad. But what an experience! What a story! Have you been back on the trail after what happened?

            – Not yet. The amputees have got together and are planning some kind of nationwide club for disabled mountaineers and trekkers but I’m not part of that. Not yet, anyway.

            – Would you like to go back to climbing?

            – I would but climbing is pretty awkward without fingers.

            – I guess so. There are some nice hiking routes along the south coast if you miss the fresh air and exercise.

            – Yeah, I know. I don’t have anyone to go with, though. I don’t fancy trudging along all on my own.

            – Well, if you allow me, I’d like to show you a few nice paths. I used to go trekking with a group of friends fairly regularly when I lived down there.

            – Really? Actually, that sounds like fun. Look, give me your phone number and I’ll get back to you on that.

Jared and Callum swapped phone numbers and both looked at the time. It was getting late but they were both enjoying a sensible conversation and Callum bought them one for the road. He surreptitiously eyed Jared’s finger stumps and admired the appearance of the maimed hand. Its proportion and shape was perfect. He wished he could experience the same thing without needing to suffer days of frostbite first. He watched Jared gripping his glass of lager as they emptied them. They swung off their stools, wished Jake a good night and received an unsubtle innuendo in reply, and left the bar, turning in opposite directions to make their way home.

 

– – – – – – –

 

Callum texted Jared two days later, mentioning that the long range weather forecast promised calm, cool and sunny weather. It would be perfect weather for a stroll along the coast if Jared felt up to it. Jared quickly checked his rota and replied that he would be delighted.

            – how will we get to the coast?

            – motorbike.

Jared had never ridden pillion on a motorbike and was full of excitement and trepidation.

 

Callum arrived outside Jared’s address at eight thirty. He was wearing the clothes he would wear during the walk under his leather trousers and leather jacket. Jared had found some padded trousers and a thick quilted jacket and had spent half an hour lacing up his thick-soled mountaineering boots with his hook and stumps. He clomped out to join Callum, put the proffered helmet on and noticed that included with the provisions in the pannier, there were two walking sticks clamped onto the side of the bike. There was not much chance that he would be using one but it was thoughtful of Callum to bring one for him. Callum’s eyes took in Jared’s steel hook, the perfect pairing for his maimed right hand.

            – Just lean against my back and relax. Don’t try to anticipate curves in the road. Hold on to me around my waist and you’ll be fine.

            – I’ve never ridden pillion before.

            – Nothing to it.

Callum looked down to see Jared’s hook and finger stumps around his waist. He started his bike and took off slowly, giving Jared the opportunity to reposition himself and adjust his grip while in motion. They arrived at the junction for the motorway shortly and were soon speeding towards the south, helmets occasionally touching with a reassuring sound. Jared had expected to stop halfway for coffee but Callum was determined not to waste time and drove on to their destination.

 

As often happens in England, three miles from the coast you could begin to smell the sea. The distinctive salty scent brought back memories of childhood, when Jared and his parents motored down to the coast, not far away from where they were now, car windows open in anticipation of the first whiff of a day at the seaside. Callum chugged through the town centre, turned left and drove along the seafront for another three miles. He pulled into a recreation area and switched his motor off.

            – Can you get off first, Jared? I’ll hold the bike steady, don’t worry.

Jared held Callum’s shoulders and swung his legs free of the bike’s seat. Callum followed, inspected his bike and opened the pannier. He removed his leather jacket and trousers and folded them. He unlocked the pannier, took out a small rucksack and squashed the leatherwear inside. He closed the two helmets’ chin straps together and hung the pair from the handlebars.

            – Won’t they get nicked?

            – No! Would you like to wear someone else’s sweaty helmet?

            – No thanks. OK, as long as you’re happy.

            – They’ll be OK. Right, shall we make a move? Let’s go and sit down for a minute and I’ll show you the route.

Callum untied both walking sticks from the bike and they walked to a table to sit. He took a map from his rucksack and spread it open so they could both inspect it.

            – We’re here now and I thought we could walk as far as the lighthouse. That’s four and a half miles and there are two places we could stop at along the way for a bite to eat.

            – So nine miles in all. That sounds fine. We have all day, after all. I suggest we walk to here, have lunch, then up to the lighthouse and rest up for half an hour before making our way back. We could have a bite to eat in the other pub on the way back.

            – Good! That’s exactly what I would have suggested. Shall we do that? Do you want a walking stick, by the way?

            – I can’t use one, Callum. The hook can’t grip it and neither can my stubs.

            – I guess I’ll just have to use two. Don’t worry! I don’t mind looking like an invalid.

            – You wouldn’t look like an invalid, and even if you did, they sort of suit you. It’s an interesting sight to see a young guy using walking sticks, especially two of them.

Callum grinned at Jared and they set off in the direction of the seafront path. Callum sported his health service issue walking sticks expertly, as if he always used them. Jared sometimes walked in front of him and Callum watched how the sun glinted off the steel hook his friend wore. His own desire to appear different, to be genuinely disabled somehow, strengthened. He would love to discuss Jared’s disabilities with him but held his obsession in check.

 

The two men set a good pace from the outset. The path was smooth and followed the seafront closely. There were a few other trekkers out for a stroll, most of them heading in the same direction. They acknowledged oncomers with a smile and greeting in an atypical English way when confronting people who had been in sight for half a minute. Callum’s walking sticks attracted attention. They were not the kind of trekking poles many of the others were using. Jared thought it was amusing. His hook would have attracted more attention in other circumstances.

 

They stopped for lunch after two hours at the pub they had chosen on the map. They both chose a generous portion of cottage pie and washed it down with a pint of mild ale. After visiting the men’s room, they set off again on the most demanding section of the route, climbing steadily towards the red and white lighthouse which had kept sailors safe for two centuries. Both of them posed for photos and Jared set his phone to take a shot including them both with the lighthouse behind them. The camera caught them glancing at each other with a self-conscious smile on their faces. It was a superb photograph technically, perfectly composed and lit. Their innocent new friendship shone out of the frame. They rested for twenty minutes until Callum picked up his walking sticks and stood. Jared pushed himself up from the table with his hook and stretched his arms.

            – Ready? Shall we take it easy going back? There’s no rush, is there?

            – None at all. Suits me.

 

The return journey was easier, being mainly downhill. A gentle breeze from seaward kept them cool. They could see the second pub from a mile away and gradually increased their speed as they approached it. Jared held the door open with his hook and Callum entered, leaning on his walking sticks. He paid for two non-alcoholic beers and two slices of tomato and ham pie which they ate cold.

            – I’ve enjoyed this. Thanks for suggesting it.

            – Same. Shall we do another route before autumn sets in?

            – Could do. I’d be up for it.

            – Good. Let’s do it. I’m very grateful to you, Jared. I haven’t mentioned it before but I’ve been depressed recently. I suppose it’s being alone. I don’t like not having someone else around. That’s why I like being with you. I feel more of an adult in your company. I feel more relaxed somehow.

            – Really? Sounds very odd. I like being with you too. You’re a lot like the younger brother I never had. We both see eye to eye on a lot of things and get on well. It’s easy to be in your company.

            – That’s kind of you to say so. I’m glad we met. OK, ready when you are.

Jared emptied his glass and they both spent a penny before completing their outing. Jared’s mind was occupied on the return journey as the sunset began, gilding the route. He had tremendous respect for Callum who had dared to speak of his emotions, who admitted to admiring him for whatever personal reasons and who, Jared knew perfectly well, was fascinated by his destroyed hands. He began to imagine what their joint lives might be like if he invited Callum to share his apartment. Maybe Callum would prefer to share his flat without a sexual relationship, which Jared was quite ready to accept. Perhaps things could go further. Jared decided to wait another few weeks and then suggest cohabitation. In the meantime, he held his friend’s midriff and felt safe.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Fate intervened in a cruel way. Before the second trek had advanced beyond the planning stage, Callum was involved in a collision with an articulated lorry which pulled out of a logistics depôt without warning. Callum’s bike rose in the air and returned to earth on top of Callum’s legs, shattering his shin bones. The distraught lorry driver, a Pole, summoned an ambulance and the police, and Callum was rushed to hospital where his injuries were examined and discussed by a small surgical team. His situation was explained to him. He could undergo years of painful reconstruction without assurance that the end result would be successful or he could undergo bilateral knee disarticulations, leaving him with two sturdy thighs eminently suitable for use with prosthetic legs. Callum chose elective amputations and his destroyed shins were removed the same day.

 

The operation was successful. Callum’s legs extended to his knees. His kneecaps were retained and repositioned so he could kneel on them. They would form a sturdy end to his stumps and he might learn to walk on them. He would have a choice of using full‑length prosthetic legs or shorter stubbies, similar to plaster casts on his thighs which extended a short way below his knees, allowing him to walk on his stumps. Three days after the amputations, he contacted Jared and let him know what had happened. Jared was shocked and promised to visit the next day.

 

Callum was fit enough to sit in a wheelchair, an inelegant aluminium model with the footplates removed. He was allowed to roll himself as far as the hospital entrance and visit the cafeteria, where Jared spotted him.

            – Callum! Oh mate. I’m so sorry. Are you feeling alright?

            – I’m OK as long as I don’t fidget. Thanks for coming, Jared. It’s good to see you. How did you get here?

            – Train from the centre.

            – Oh. I suppose I’ll be travelling by train in future. I can’t imagine riding a motorbike like this.

            – Don’t think about that yet. Just get well first. Are your stumps painful?

            – Not really painful but I can still feel my feet and toes. They feel scrunched up.

            – Phantom feelings. I know about those. Don’t worry. They’ll fade away after a while.

            – There’s another thing I was worried about.

            – What’s that?

            – Getting home in a wheelchair. You know there’s no lift. I’m going to have to go up and downstairs on my bum.

            – Yeah, that is a bit of a problem. I know a way to avoid all that, though.

            – Really? What’s that?

            – You get better here for another couple of weeks and then wheel yourself into my flat. Move in with me and share my place. I’ve been thinking about inviting you for a few weeks and now it’s the best possible solution for both of us. There’s a lift in my building so that solves one problem and we’ll be together instead of feeling lonely all the time. What do you say?

            – That would be fantastic! Are you sure you can put up with me? Especially now, as a legless cripple.

            – Especially now, because you are a legless cripple. I would love having another amputee at home.

            – Amputee. I haven’t thought about that word. I am an amputee. A legless amputee.

            – You’ll soon have a pair of artificial legs. Your stumps are long. You’ve had disarticulations, haven’t you? Your thighs will stay strong and muscular instead of wasting away like leg stumps usually do. This time next year, we’ll be out hiking along the south coast again. Wait and see!

            – It would be great to be able to do that.

            – And you have a couple of walking sticks already, if I recall. Use those!

            – I’ll probably be using them anyway, won’t I?

            – Up to you. I reckon you’ll be able to ditch them after a couple of months on fake legs. A guy your age – a pair of prossies should be child’s play.

            – It’s going to be alright, isn’t it, Jared? We’ll be alright together, won’t we?

            – We’ll be more than alright. We’ll be fantastic.

 

Callum’s mood and motivation improved tenfold. He had stumps of his own, not necessarily the type he would have wanted, but he would be on artificial legs for the rest of his life and the idea filled him with great satisfaction. His robust stumps would lend themselves superbly for insertion into a pair of cylindrical carbon fibre stubbies when he wanted to look and feel more disabled. He would have liked to lose his legs mid-thigh but perhaps his two disarts would bring him the fulfilment he craved.

 

Jared was also far more optimistic than he had been before seeing Callum. The man was an invalid, a severely disabled man in the prime of life and would overcome it, just as he himself had overcome the loss of his hand. The bond between them would grow stronger as they complemented each other. Jared with the legs, Callum with the hands. Jared spent the evenings planning a few alterations in his apartment which Callum might need and they arranged to have Callum’s meagre possessions moved out of his rented flat after he was discharged. Callum would go directly to his new home with Jared on his release.

 

Jared spoke to a few colleagues at work and asked for volunteers to ferry the new invalid from hospital and to empty Callum’s flat of his possessions. He spoke to Callum’s landlord and explained that Callum would no longer be able to rent. They came to a mutually satisfactory agreement regarding the rent termination and arranged for the keys to be returned.

 

Callum was ready for discharge on a Saturday morning. He was excited at leaving with a bagful of stump shrinkers and liners, instructions for stump exercises and a brand new lightweight wheelchair. He dressed in clean civilian clothes for the first time in several weeks, brought in by Jared. A red hoodie over a new white T-shirt, new underpants fresh from the package and a pair of black shorts, half a pair of army surplus cargo pants with the unzippable lower trouser legs removed. His long stumps, clad in a pair of white shrinkers, poked out of the shorts. He gripped his wheelchair and appreciated its solid reliability and wheeled himself to the entrance hall to wait for collection.

 

Jared arrived half an hour later with Nick from work. Nick had borrowed his brother’s van for the morning. Another colleague, Pjotr, remained in the van. The plan was to load Callum into the back, go by his flat and carry him upstairs to collect his clothes and electronics and depart for the last time to his new home. Once Callum was safely mobile in Jared’s flat, Nick and Pjotr would drop the van off back at Nick’s brother’s and return to Jared’s flat with a huge order of Chinese take‑aways which Jared had pre‑ordered. He had been stocking up with lager and stiffer drink all week. There was going to be a ‘welcome home’ party that evening, no holds barred.

 

Callum had not met either of Jared’s workmates before, neither had they met a legless double amputee. They both eyed him warily at first but soon realised by his reaction at seeing Jared that he was far from being a broken morose invalid. Callum shook their hands and introduced himself and thanked them both for helping out. The ice was broken and they heaved Callum and his wheelchair into the back of the van and secured the chair to the inside fixtures with nylon straps. Pjotr sat on the wheel well, legs splayed for balance, and chatted about motorcycles en route. Callum gave no sign of distaste at the idea of getting back onto a bike sometime after he had his new legs. And a new bike.

 

Jared had rearranged some of his furniture to make room for the wheelchair and taken up all the mats. The parquet floor had a couple of deep scratches which were visible again but they could be repaired some other time. The most important thing was to make mobility as easy as possible for Callum. It would be many weeks before his stumps were healed enough to begin putting weight on them. If and when he could walk on his stumps, the mats could go down again. Jared had considered buying a new mattress for Callum but hoped that he would be open to sharing Jared’s bed with him. If not, Callum could sleep in Jared’s bed alone and Jared would sleep on the sofa until they had bought a new bed.

 

Pyotr and Nick lifted Callum down from the back of the van and placed him carefully onto the pavement outside the entrance to Jared’s building.

            – Can you manage from here, mate?

            – I think so. There aren’t any steps, are there, Jared?

            – No.

            – I’ll be fine. Thanks.

            – OK. Right. Let’s get your stuff upstairs and you’ll be set and ready.

The three men each grabbed as much of Callum’s bags, boxes and cases of clothes, books, records and assorted junk as they could sensibly manage and made two trips back and forth transferring the material contents of Callum’s life into Jared’s flat. Callum remained downstairs on guard against whatever dangers lurked for a white van with its interior open to the street.

            – That’s everything. Jared is already sorting your books out. You better go and help him.

Nick pushed Callum into the lobby and opened the lift door.

            – See you in a bit.

            – Yeah. Thanks for your help.

            – It’s alright, mate. We thought you might need a hand. Don’t tell Jared I said that.

            – Ha! No, I won’t. See you later.

Callum pressed the button for the second floor and reversed out of the lift into his new home.

 

A few hours later, after Callum had slept for three hours on Jared’s bed and Jared had dozed on the sofa, Pyotr and Nick returned bearing the evening’s meal and two bottles of Wyborowa. Jared streamed some Led Zeppelin for background noise and handed round tins of beer. It was an awkward start to the evening. Jared did not wish to talk about work and there seemed to be only one other subject. Pyotr watched Jared swigging his beer, holding the can in his left hook, noticing that the can was being slowly crushed as the pressure of liquid diminished.

            – Can you feel anything, Jared? I mean, I know you can’t tell if the beer is cold but when you’re holding that can, do you have any sense of it?

            – Nope. I have to look at what my hook is holding to know what it’s doing. Do you mean the way the can is being crushed?

            – Yeah, sort of. I was wondering.

            – Well, I can’t drop it because the hook is closing on the can as hard as it can. Can and can, sorry!

            – It’s alright. I understand. So how does it do that? I mean, I can see how the hook holds but I don’t understand why the can does not fall.

Jared smirked and instead of launching into yet another explanation to a stranger, he shucked his hoodie and doffed his prosthesis.

            – Take a close look at this, Pyotr, and you will understand. Give the silver cable a good tug and see what happens.

Jared passed his prosthesis to the embarrassed Pyotr who took hold of the socket.

            – Oh! It’s warm!

Pyotr inspected the socket and hook and followed the cable up to the cuff and onward to the harness.

            – Hold the socket in one hand and pull on the cable.

Pyotr did as suggested and looked in amazement as his fairly forceful tug opened the hook. He did it again to appreciate the force necessary to open the terminal device and began to understand why the beer cans were slowly crushed. He inspected the hook to see what was causing it and suddenly understood the purpose of the rubber bands. Something so simple, so mundane, was responsible for enabling the hook. And the whole arm. He glanced at Jared’s naked arm stump and could well imagine how very valuable the simple steel hook and its rubber bands were. Callum watched Pyotr’s exploration.

            – Can I have a look too, Jared?

            – Here you are, Callum. Please don’t break it.

            – Ha! You’d have to be superman to make a dent in that. You could drive a tank over it and it would take it.

Callum looked at the artificial arm from many angles and felt the steel hook, tracing its curves with a finger. His touch was more sensuous than Pyotr’s. Callum had never held an arm prosthesis before and was delighted by its lightness and rigidity. The hook itself was beautiful and the entire prosthesis seemed to him to be an object of desire. He looked up at Jared and handed the arm back.   

            – I think I understand how it works now.

Jared shrugged the harness over his shoulder and shoved his stump back into the socket. He tested the hook a couple of times and picked up his beer.

            – Cheers.

 

The Chinese food cooled in the kitchen. Pyotr opened a bottle of vodka and Jared fetched some shot glasses. The evening progressed in the expected fashion, with the exception of assisting Callum in the toilet. Shortly before midnight, they reheated the Chinese take-aways in the kitchen and forked an incomprehensible combination of dishes into themselves. After one for the road, Pyotr and Nick wished the amputees a good night and left. There were two unopened six-packs and half a bottle of vodka left as well as most of the food. All in all, a successful evening. Jared did not even remember to ask if Callum minded sharing his bed. A quarter of an hour later, they were both in it, holding onto each other in an attempt to stop their heads spinning.

 

Jared and Callum quickly learned to take each other’s shortcomings into account. Jared made sure that chairs were tucked under tables, that the floor was kept clear of objects which did not belong there. Callum’s reach was necessarily limited but he remembered Jared’s difficulties with accessibility. He stopped replacing lids tightly and opened packets of groceries before storing them to make Jared’s life a little easier. One big change in their usual routine was the nightly shower after Callum’s stumps had healed more. Jared helped him into the shower, to sit on a bath towel, and entered after him. Callum washed Jared and himself, a much shorter process than if Jared was left to handle slippery soaps and wash cloths with his arm and finger stumps. Callum brushed Jared’s teeth after seeing the difficulty Jared had opening a tube of toothpaste and using it. Such a little everyday thing, so inconvenient without two sets of fingers.

 

Callum received notice from the hospital that it was time to be fitted with prosthetic legs. He made an appointment with a prosthetist who specialised in bilateral cases. Callum’s stumps were cast the old-fashioned way with plaster of Paris. The prosthetist, Dr Lewis Cox, explained the specific characteristics of prosthetic legs for someone with bilateral disarticulations. How the knees were closer to the ground than his natural knees had been, how the shins would be shorter to compensate, how the thigh muscles needed to adapt to a new centre of balance. Callum nodded, understanding the points and asked if it would be easier for all concerned if he simply chose to wear long cylindrical stubbies. Cox was silent for a moment, slightly surprised at the query. Most men in Callum’s condition wanted to get a pair of legs under them as soon as possible. It was very unusual for an amputee to actually request the sturdy but unnatural carbon fibre stubbies.

            – I suppose you could have a pair. Do you mean instead of prosthetic legs, or as well as?

            – Instead of. I think I would always feel insecure on tall legs. I’d much prefer to have a pair of stubbies which I can rely on.

            – I see. Well, in that case, your first pair of legs will be long stubbies. How much extra height do you want to them?

            – I think ten or twelve centimetres would be fine.

            – Yes, that’s enough. What sort of base do you want?

            – Just a circular base, as wide as the leg itself. Perhaps later I could try another pair with rocker feet, something which looks like a broken foot in a plaster cast.

            – I know the style. I don’t recommend it but it’s perfectly possible.

 

Two weeks later, Jared accompanied Callum to collect his new stubbies. Dr Cox demonstrated how to roll silicon liners onto the stumps before sliding into the stubbies and closing the valve which would ensure the stubbies would stay firmly in place. Callum enjoyed the sensation of the broad lip at the top of each stubbie. He could simply rest his weight on his new legs, sitting on them to all practical purposes. He trialled them between the parallel bars, finding his balance and testing the minimal movements required to kick the stubbies forward at each step. He tried climbing a few steps and descending a slope.

            – I might need a cane or two for that, I think.

            – Do you want a pair of short walking sticks, Callum? We can provide a pair right now if you feel you need them.

            – I think it would be better to have them and not need them than not to have them and need them.

            – Exactly.

A few minutes later, Callum tried the steps again and found it easier to negotiate them with his rigid thighs and two shortened walking sticks.

            – Well, I am prepared to let you have the stubbies if they’re comfortable and you feel ready to wear them.

            – As ready as I’ll ever be.

 

The two amputees left the hospital, both walking. Jared pushed the empty wheelchair and Callum christened his stubbies in public, attracting astonished attention at such an unusual sight. The stubbies emitted a hollow thud at each step which Callum found satisfying. They travelled home by taxi and Callum spent the rest of the day testing his new legs, standing in front of the mirror admiring himself, trying different pairs of shorts to see which ones complemented his glossy legs the best.

 

Callum returned to work at the beginning of the next week. The company was about to literally launch a newly designed version of its weather balloon which incorporated the features which Callum had worked on before his accident. His chief was happy to see the much diminished figure turning up cheerful and otherwise healthy, set and ready to review their customers’ experiences with the new equipment. By the end of the week, all the staff had become accustomed to seeing and hearing Callum moving around the lab. He used one walking stick outside when they left for lunch, having found two to be a little too inconvenient.

 

– – – – – – -

 

The men still shared Jared’s bed every night after their communal shower and they both agreed that a wider bed would be more comfortable. After much inconvenience and a considerable physical struggle, a new bed and mattress was installed and fitted with brand new sheets and a superb light-weight duvet. It felt luxurious for weeks until they became accustomed to it. Now that Callum had adopted stubbies, the wheelchair became superfluous to requirements and was relegated to a corner of the living room. Jared relaid the mats and the flat began to resemble a normal home. The bathroom was overhauled and now featured chrome bars and handles so Callum could support himself in the shower or lift himself onto the WC.

 

Callum was increasingly fascinated with Jared’s stumps. The arm stump was firm and warm. Jared almost always wore an artificial arm of some sort, either his professionally provided prothesis with its variety of hook attachments or a 3D-printed sheath terminating in a black facsimile of a male hand. It was mainly decorative but had the advantage of preventing knocks and bruises to the end of the stump. Jared designed the arm himself and had spent weeks perfecting it in a modelling app before generating a file to be sliced and printed by a colleague who owned a 3D printer. Jared wore it only rarely, preferring a functioning hook, regardless of its appearance. It was the hook which most fascinated Callum. He fantasised about having his own left hand replaced by a steel hook. There were several handsome examples he had seen on the web, legless men with a prosthetic arm or two. He began to imagine himself in their position, one-armed with a hook instead of his hand. There was one huge deterrent for Callum. It would be very difficult to wheel himself around if he had only one hand. A hook was too impractical to use for propulsion. He could always get a motorised wheelchair, of course. But it was such a huge expense regarding the amount of time he actually sat in his chair. He had learned to walk on his stumps perfectly well and still enjoyed the sensations and reactions which his stubbies provided. He regarded himself as a disabled man but he was happy to continue as normal with the grotesque black cylinders on his leg stumps.

 

Jared was usually capable of leading a normal life. As most arm amputees, he found it difficult to manage actions which involved rotation such as taking the lid off a jar or turning a key in a lock. His finger stumps provided little assistance. Jared liked the look of his mutilated hand. The stumps were all of a similar length and had been closed neatly. His half thumb represented the main difficulty he had when using his hand. If it were longer, it would be easier to grip things. But there was no point in wishing for what could never be. Jared also considered having a revision done on his hand, a quick and easy disarticulation at the wrist so he could wear a second hook. He knew that no surgeon would concede to amputate an otherwise healthy hand, regardless of how maimed it was.

 

Both men were considering losing their hands, without realising it.

 

For his part, Jared was full of admiration for the way Callum had acclimatised to being a short person. He had been a little taller than Jared before his amputations. Jared had liked looking up to him when they were standing together, close. Now the short figure he loved with his noisy awkward gait had become such a familiar sight that Jared could not imagine Callum any other way. The carbon cylinders were practical, neat and visually appealing. Callum’s motorcycle had been compensated for by his insurance company and with other insurance income, Jared knew that Callum had more than enough money to afford a state-of the-art pair of artificial legs which would disguise his disability if he dedicated some time learning to use them. He admired Callum for maintaining his obvious amputee status. He suspected that Callum continued to rely on stubbies in solidarity with himself, an amputee whose prosthetics were always on display.

 

These were the thoughts and deductions which the two amputees, firm friends and lovers, felt about each others disabilities. Neither spoke of them until Callum returned one evening from a visit to his prosthetist.

            – I was talking about you to Dr Cox.

            – Oh? Whatever for?

            – Well, I mentioned that you have a hook with a maimed hand and he said it was probably the worst kind of disability. That you could probably do more with a second hook. But they don’t amputate for things like that.

            – No, they don’t. I’ve asked about that before. Nothing new there.

            – No. Anyway, apparently, there’s a new policy being drawn up which is almost certain to go through whereby patients who don’t absolutely need amputations will be able to get them if they can persuade a medical review board. And I mentioned your stumpy fingers and Cox said that’s exactly the sort of thing they had in mind.

            – Well, that’s interesting. When might this be possible?

            – They’re voting on it next week. And then there’s a parliamentary review but they won’t understand it well enough to block it. So if all goes according to plan, in about six months time, you ought to be able to make a case to a surgeon to have your stumpy hand amputated like on the left. Would you like that? I mean, do you think you’d have any advantage of it?

            – I think I would, for many things. It’s something to think about. I’d go through with it if I made the decision, you know, despite the inconvenience of a fresh amputation and all that. It would be quite a while before I’m fitted with another artificial arm.

            – It would be quite a change, for sure, but I’m certain that you’d make a go of it if you had another hook. I love the way your finger stumps feel when we’re together but I see you trying to use them and I know how frustrating they must be for you.

            – I’m used to them, Callum. I’m perfectly prepared to continue as I am now, unless something persuades me otherwise.

            – Would I be able to persuade you?

            – Do you want me to have two hooks?

            – I think it would make you perfect.

            – Alright. I’ll think about it. How about you? I know you’ve been harbouring thoughts about having your arms off.

            – Oh! How do you know that? Have I ever said anything about that?

            – No, you haven’t. Not directly. But I've seen how much you like your leg stumps and how you don’t want to use ordinary artificial legs because you like the way you look wearing those stubbies. You like looking like an amputee. I know the way you like to watch me using my hook. I don’t mind. I think it’s part of the way you love me. So I can understand why you might want me to have two hooks. But I can also understand why you want at least one of your own.

            – I want two. That’s why I want to see you get another one. If I have my hands off, we’d be a perfect match. Think of us together at night fondling each other with arm stumps. Never using fingers again for anything. Never feeling anything except with our hidden stumps.

            – And would you have your hands off for me? If I agree to go ahead with my amputation, would you join me and have yours replaced by hooks?

            – Are you making it some kind of condition?

            – Yeah! I think I am. I will if you will. How does that sound?

            – Great! I’m so glad. I was so afraid of what you’d think of me if I admitted to wanting to get artificial arms and hooks.

            – Well, go ahead. I don’t know what plans you have to cause amputations but I’ll be with you all the way.

 

And so the search began. Jared contacted his prosthetist and explained that he was frustrated with his maimed hand and would appreciate any advice on how to apply for an elective amputation. The prosthetist was sympathetic. He remembered Jared well and had himself suspected that the man might eventually fare better with a pair of hooks. He promised to do a little research on Jared’s behalf and shortly forwarded the email addresses of surgeons who specialised in upper limbs and who might be amenable to amputation with the prosthetist’s recommendation.

 

Callum was not so lucky with his preliminary enquiries. He knew several cases of men who had lost hands to firework explosions, frostbite and dry ice but it was next to impossible to find their personal contact details. Callum learned of an international network of referrers and crooked surgeons who amputated healthy limbs for a price, usually well into five figures. Callum did not have that kind of money available. He read about a nerve condition which occasionally led to amputation which frequently affected amputees in their remaining limbs. Callum considered his situation and decided that he would have the greatest credibility as a legless victim of the nerve disease. With Jared’s encouragement, he contacted the same surgeons, complaining of severe nerve pain in his hands and begging for relief. After speaking with half a dozen surgeons who wanted to appraise the situation again in six months, he dejectedly spoke with another surgeon who was himself feeling depressed and vindictive towards the thankless general public.

 

Dr Samuel Adams was a skilled surgeon but a difficult colleague. He was deeply in debt, mainly due to his protracted education. He was argumentative and intolerant of others’ weaknesses and indecision. His colleagues appreciated his efficiency and professionalism towards his patients but were constantly wary of his volatile nature. He was friendless and was gradually becoming vindictive. Callum spoke with him briefly, explaining once again his invented nerve problems and hoping that Adams would see fit to amputate without requiring additional months of agonising wait. He had suffered long enough after losing his legs to the illness. Adams saw the opportunity to earn a few thousand under the table and agreed that the best treatment for Callum would be amputation of his diseased hands, leaving him with forearms half the length of his healthy versions. He could access the medical records at the hospital where he was employed and could probably arrange bilateral amputations within a few weeks. It would cost Callum twelve thousand.

            – That’s a lot of money. I don’t have that much at the moment, unfortunately.

            – That is unfortunate. I’m afraid I must insist.

            – Would ten thousand not be enough? I can arrange for that much, I’m sure.

Adams considered his options. Twelve thousand at some time in the future or ten thousand now. He had another three-monthly loan repayment due in four weeks.

            – OK. I’ll settle for ten. I want half as soon as I get you into the system, do you understand? It’s easy enough for me to cancel the whole thing.

            – Yes, I understand. Let’s work together on this.

 

They did work together. Adams held to his half of the deal and falsified a slew of hospital records to verify that Callum’s hands were chronically disabled by complex regional pain syndrome, a new catch-all disease which had recently been recognised as an official ailment. It presented no outward physical indicators. Sufferers begged for treatment for their diseased feet and hands which otherwise appeared perfectly healthy. Three weeks after the first contact, Adams informed Callum of the date of his amputations. He was to present himself at the hospital on the previous day for a stay of seven days. Post-operative care could be done locally. There was no need for the hospital to remain involved and Adams himself was genuinely disinterested. Callum thanked him and began to make preparations for a return to life with Jared as a quadruple amputee. Jared himself was interested in seeing what kind of stump Callum returned with. If the result looked tidy, he would contact the surgeon himself and beg for relief from the same CRP syndrome. Jared intended to wait until Callum had received his artificial arms and was functioning again well enough so that he, Jared, could afford the three or so weeks to recover from the amputation.

 

Jared accompanied Callum on the journey to the hospital. They travelled by express coach from Victoria which was not only the cheapest method but also the most convenient. The coach stopped outside the hospital entrance. Jared disembarked first with Callum’s travel bag and turned to offer a hand to his friend struggling on the steps down from the vehicle. They entered the hospital and Callum checked in. They were asked to sit and wait for someone to collect the patient. Twenty minutes later, Callum stumped along to his bed for the preliminary preparations for his imminent amputations. He dressed in hospital pyjamas, stiff and coarse from thousands of washings, his own clothes neatly folded and placed into a cupboard and his stubbies standing guard beside his bed. Other patients eyed him without curiosity. They were all recent amputees, shell-shocked by their transformations.

 

Dr Adams appeared to discuss briefly the next day’s schedule and its aftermath.

            – And I want you to indicate the final length of your stumps. Ask a nurse for a pen and draw a ring around your arms. Just to make sure I don’t take too much.

            – I just want to get rid of my hands. Two inches or so above the wrists is fine.

            – Mark your arms anyway.

 

Callum was allowed a cup of tea the next morning and received an injection of a relaxant. He was shortly wheeled to theatre. He greeted Adams and his staff and was lifted onto the operating table. Adams checked that the arms were marked as requested and nodded.

            – Very good. You’re going to have a sturdy pair of stumps. If you’re ready, we can begin.

            – Please go ahead.

The anaesthetist approached with a mask and Callum was soon unconscious. The two amputations were straightforward and proceeded as planned. Adams stood back to admire his handiwork and allowed his subordinate to close the wounds with two neat rows of black stitches. A nurse bandaged the fresh stumps tightly and quadruple amputee Callum was returned to the ward to recover.

 

Callum awoke as if a light switch had been flipped, returning him to normal life. He was momentarily confused by his surroundings and then reassured by the sight of his heavily bandaged arms. His hands were missing. He had no hands. He had lost both hands. His mind played with the words in an attempt to connect them with his new reality. He was now completely helpless. He carefully lifted his truncated forearms to inspect their shortness, trying to sense their new brevity. Callum’s imagination envisioned the healed stumps, muscular with handsome rounded tips. And he imagined how he would appear shortly standing in glossy black stubbies wearing glossy black prosthetic arms. He was going to be using hooks instead of hands for the rest of his life. Hooks always. His reverie was interrupted by a nurse who had noticed that the patient had revived. She enquired about how he felt, if he was nauseous or uncomfortable. Callum replied that he was hungry. Lunch would be along soon, he learned.

 

Lunch was stewed cabbage with tepid watery rice. An auxiliary nurse fed him. It was Callum’s first practical experience of his handlessness and not one to his taste. Later in the afternoon, he needed to urinate. The same nurse fetched a flat wide-necked bottle and placed it between his leg stumps. She left while Callum coaxed himself to urinate while bed bound. The bottle was removed carefully and his pyjamas rearranged. Callum would have liked something to do, something to read. He might even have enjoyed playing something on his phone. How the hell was he ever going to use his phone? He would have to put it on a table or something and swipe it with a stylus. He would find a way but he could not imagine himself holding his phone and simply swiping through its contents. The television was on, showing afternoon soaps with the sound low enough to be unintelligible, loud enough to be a distraction. The moving images demanded attention. Callum stared at the screen with its wooden actors and hysterical advertising. He would have loved to find the remote and quieten it or change the channel. That was something else he would not be doing in the near future.

 

Hospital life did not agree with Callum any more than for his fellow amputee patients. Their days were bouts of phantom pains interrupted by tasteless destroyed food and the relief of toilet breaks. Leg amputees were allowed to morosely roam the ward and corridors in wheelchairs, dragging themselves along with a remaining foot. Callum was denied permission to roam with them. His stubbies were removed from the side of his bed to prevent any such attempts. It was imperative that he allow his fresh arm stumps to heal as quickly as possible. The hospital could not risk him tripping and falling onto them. Callum had suffered enough pain from them already to not want to experience that particular phenomenon and condescended to remain obediently in bed facing the hated tv. He longed to swap messages with Jared, anyone who might take his mind off the relentless tedium.

 

On the sixth morning, Adams himself made an inspection of the stumps. The flesh was closing well, he announced. The stumps were still swollen and appeared square from Callum’s viewpoint. There was discussion between the matron and Adams out of earshot which continued for several minutes, involving a phone call to another unknown party. Adams returned to Callum’s bedside.

            – We have arranged for a district nurse to visit your home address every morning for the next two weeks, weekends included. You are being discharged as from now and may leave any time. I have prepared a list of do’s and don’t’s regarding your stump care which you must adhere to. Do you have any questions?

            – Will I need to come back here again for any reason?

            – Do you mean admission to the hospital? Only if there is an obvious problem. You will be given the addresses of local prosthetists and I suggest you make an appointment with one at the beginning of next month, assuming your stumps are deemed suitable by the district nurse. Do you understand?

            – Yes, of course. So I’m free to leave now, is that right?

            – You are.

            – Thank you, doctor.

Adams glanced at Callum’s naked forearm stumps again, nodded and wordlessly moved to his next patient.

 

Callum thought about the best way to get home. He would need assistance, that was obvious. Maybe Jared could come and collect him. They could go back on the bus but Callum would need help every step of the way. He could not even carry his bag yet with his tender stumps. They were still bandaged tightly and would be changed again in the morning. Callum asked his leg amputee neighbour if he minded sending a text message on his behalf. Callum dictated a brief plea for help and thanked the man. He took his phone back tentatively, holding it between his fresh stumps.

 

A nurse packed Callum’s few belongings into his hold-all and wished him well in the future. Callum held the bag in the crook of his right arm and made a quick tour of the ward to say goodbye to his fellow amputees. He stumped along to the entrance lobby to wait for Jared.

 

Callum was not able to pull himself up onto a chair. There was a waiting area nearby with low couches. It should be possible for him to sit on one, using his butt to pull himself deeper into it. His stubbies poked up from the cushioned seat. He relaxed and concentrated on sensing the stumps of his limbs. His thighs were sturdy and muscular and ended at his knees. The black carbon stubbies concealed them completely. His gait was regular, powerful and completely alien. He loved the sensations he felt swinging his thighs around as he walked in the cylindrical prostheses. His arm stumps were still tender enough to make themselves known without much concentration. He could feel the absence of his hands and the promise of his future truncated forearms. With a pair of artificial arms, he would feel invincible.

 

A teenage boy with his right leg completely covered in a fresh plaster cast approached the couch. He was fascinated by amputations and was disappointed that his seriously fractured leg had been merely casted rather than amputated. He had noticed Callum’s stubbies first and was excited to see the legless man was also missing his hands.

            – Can I sit down here?

            – Help yourself.

The boy lowered himself onto the couch and arranged his rigid leg. He held his crutches between his legs.

            – Broke your leg, huh?

            – Yeah. Skidded on some gravel and drove my bike into a ditch full of broken concrete. One of the bits toppled on top of me and smashed my leg even worse.

            – Ouch!  Sounds painful.

            – Yeah, well. What happened to you? I really like your leg stumps. Sorry if that’s rude.

            – I like ’em too. I was just thinking about how much more I like having short stubbies like these instead of long artificial legs. These are much more practical and easy to walk on.

            – And you don’t mind being short?

            – Not really. Sometimes it’s a bitch when I can’t reach something but people are always ready to help, I’ve found. Which is good because it’ll be a few weeks until I get a pair of hooks.

            – What happened to your hands?

            – Nothing really. They were bothering me. I had ’em off.

            – Ha! Just like that! Alright. You don’t have to tell me. How long are the stumps?

            – You’re very inquisitive about my stumps, aren’t you? Are you interested in that sort of thing?

            – Yeah, I am, really. Don’t know why. I don’t know anyone who’s lost a limb. It just looks cool.

            – So I look maximum cool with four stumps, do I?

The boy looked warily at Callum’s amused expression and smiled.

            – If I could look like you when I get a bit older, I’d really like it. I love the idea of having artificial limbs. Putting them on and taking them off, showing off my stumps.

            – Whoah! You’re quite the wannabe, aren’t you?

            – I suppose I am. You don’t mind, do you?

            – Why should I mind? I don’t mind.

            – You don’t happen to know any way to get an amputation if you don’t really need one, do you?

Callum was surprised and fascinated by his companion’s blatant honesty. Having just undergone two elective amputations and become severely disabled as a result, he weighed the consequences of lying or telling the truth.

            – Strange as it may seem but I think I might well know a way. Why do you ask? Are you going to apply to have one?

            – Well, first of all I want this leg off. It’s fucked up already. I reckon I’ll be better off walking with the cast and crutches than with the leg itself after the plaster comes off.

            – You could keep it permanently in a plaster cast. Just renew it every three months. I know of a guy who wore one cast after another for four years. In the end, his leg was so withered and the joints had all fused so he asked for an amputation and got it. Now he walks on a full‑length steel peg leg.

            – Great! Do you think I could do that?

            – I don’t see why not. You’ll probably need someone to help you change the plaster casts every so often but there’s no reason you couldn’t wear one for the next ten years if you want. Wear two. Have ’em both off like me!

            – I might do that. Is it true that your joints fuse together?

            – Well, it’s not guaranteed. All people are a bit different but wearing a cast for longer than six months starts to severely muck up your limb. The muscles all turn to mush.

            – So you can’t use them to walk.

            – No, you can’t. And if your knee and ankle has become rigid, you might as well have the whole thing amputated.

            – Great! That’s what I’m gonna do. Thanks for the idea.

            – Ha! You’re welcome. What’s your name? I’m Callum.

            – I’m Daniel Roberts. Pleased to meet you.

He leaned across with his hand out to shake and then realised Callum’s situation.

            – Sorry! Forgot. How long before you get your hooks?

            – Six weeks or so.

            – How are you going to manage stuff until then?

            – I live with a good friend who will help me. I’m waiting for him now, in fact. He should be here fairly soon.

            – Oh. I’d like to meet you again after you get your hooks.

            – Would you, now? Alright, I’ll give you my email address and you can keep in contact that way.

Daniel took his phone out and added Callum’s address to his contacts.

 

Jared arrived a few minutes later and looked around until he saw his friend sitting to one side.

            – Hello! You have some company, I see. Been waiting long?

            – Not long. This is Daniel. We’ve been talking about my stumps.

            – And what conclusion have you come to?

Daniel looked at Jared’s expression and down to the steel hook. Jared noticed and opened the hook twice. Daniel looked even more confused.

            – We were saying how much better it is to have a stump rather than a leg which is no good.

            – Very true. Is that what you’re worried about, Daniel?

            – No! I’m not worried about it. I wish they’d cut this off instead of casting it. It’s probably gonna be fucked up anyway.

            – I was telling him about Alec wearing his casts.

            – Oh yeah, I remember. Alec the Peg.

            – The very same.

            – Is that what you want? A leg stump?

            – Yeah. I’d love to have an artificial leg.

            – Would you now? Interesting.

            – Daniel and I have already swapped phone numbers so we can stay in touch.

            – Right. OK Daniel. It was good meeting like this and I hope you soon get out of here. Ask them to give you a walking cast before you leave. They won’t want to but you can insist on it. Then you can walk on your cast and pretend it’s a peg leg. Are you ready, Cal?

            – As ready as I’ll ever be. Bye Daniel.

Jared picked Callum’s bag up with his hook and steadied Callum with his right hand as Callum squirmed forward off the low seat. He leaned forward over his stubbies and tottered a few times finding his new balance with his lighter arms. He looked back at Daniel and winked. Daniel watched the two amputees leave the entrance hall and determined that he would do everything in his power to boast an artificial leg and a hook by the time he was twenty.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Callum was an undemanding patient. His district nurse, a tall muscular young man from Sierra Leone, arrived every morning between ten and twelve to inspect Callum’s arm stumps and change the bandages. His long nimble fingers reminded Callum every day of what he had lost and he felt a tinge of regret until he returned to Jared’s company. Jared was waiting for Callum to get his first pair of hooks and to become adept enough so that he could have his own right hand amputated. He was dithering about whether he wanted a disarticulation from the wrist or a radial amputation a couple of inches above the wrist so his two arm stumps would be a matching pair. He would heal much sooner from the disarticulation. He considered Callum’s situation and decided to go for the removal at the wrist. If he was dissatisfied with his physical appearance, he could have remedial surgery later. He contacted Callum’s surgeon Samuel Adams directly explaining his disablement and desire to become a bilateral amputee. Adams replied later the same day stating a price and approximate time frame. The parliamentary bill concerning elective amputations had been downvoted by a minuscule group of orthodox Christian lords. It would remain expensive and difficult to have a recalcitrant limb removed for the foreseeable future. Fortunately there were co‑operative surgeons such as Samuel Adams who would oblige for a suitable sum.

 

Callum was fitted with a pair of state-of-the-art body-operated hooks. The control cables travelled through Teflon-coated conduits and operated silently and smoothly. The black carbon sockets matched his stubbies and were a few centimetres shorter than his natural arms. For the first days, Callum simply peacocked at home in front of Jared, not actually trying to use his hooks for any practical purpose. Jared could understand the excitement and joy of new prostheses but discussed the matter with Callum one evening after receiving a definite date for his own amputation.

            – You ought to start learning to use those, you know. I don’t mind helping you out when something is too awkward for you but it seems to me that you haven’t really been taking it very seriously. I’m going to be disabled myself again in a couple of weeks and I don’t want to think of you being helpless here at home.

            – I’ll be alright. You don’t need to worry.

            – But you haven’t even learned to put your arms on yet!

It was true. Callum had received next to no instruction or rehabilitation. He had himself claimed that he would be able to learn better from his amputee companion than in rehab but had made no effort to do so. His prostheses were cumbersome, a tangle of straps and cuffs held in place with Velcro which stuck to other straps and made it frustrating to untangle with two fresh forearm stumps. Jared helped him every morning, teasing out the tangles with his solitary hook. It was an annoyance but Jared patiently helped his friend don the new artificial arms before assisting him with rolling liners onto his leg stumps. Callum managed to slip his stumps into his stubbies well enough.

            – I’m sorry to be such a klutz. I know I should be able to do this stuff for myself by now but you always come and help me before I’ve had a chance to try for myself.

            – Oh, OK. Well, in a way, I suppose you’re right. I suppose I do come and help you out. Do you really think you’ll be able to manage for yourself while I’m away for a few days?

            – Yeah, I think so. I’m going to have to practise opening the door with my key if I go out. Or, there is another way. I don’t know whether you’d approve.

            – What’s that?

            – Well, the schools are out because of summer holiday so I was wondering if you’d mind if Daniel came round to help out while you’re away.

            – Who’s Daniel?

            – The young guy with the full-length leg cast at the hospital when you picked me up.

            – Oh, I remember. And you think he’d come and help you?

            – Pretty certain.

            – Well, I don’t mind. Give him a call and see what he says.

 

 Daniel lived at the far end of a bus route which wound its way through the northern suburbs as far as Golders Green. It would take him about fifty minutes in each direction but the youngster, still hobbled with a walking cast and on crutches, could reach Jared’s apartment without too much effort. Callum sent him a text message which he slowly typed with the tip of his right hook. Daniel replied immediately and promised he would come to keep Callum company any time. He had not yet seen Callum’s artificial arms and the idea of having a pair of hooks on black sockets was intensely erotic to him.

 

Jared was invited for his second amputation a few days later. Callum had been practising diligently, dressing himself, shaving his stubble, making a cup of tea. Jared thought he would manage well enough, especially if Daniel did some grocery shopping for him. Jared underwent the disarticulation of his maimed right hand at the wrist the same day and was soon recovering in the amputee ward. He would be discharged as soon as his doctor was satisfied that the wound had closed properly. There was a chronic shortage of beds and minor cases such as Jared’s were outsourced to local health authorities as soon as possible.

 

In the meantime, Callum and Daniel were getting on like a house on fire. Daniel was infatuated with Callum’s hooks and openly admitted that bilateral arm amputations were the sexiest thing he could imagine. He said Callum was so lucky to have hooks as well as leg stumps. He thought a while about asking Callum to remove his prostheses so he could look at Callum’s body with its four stumps. Callum agreed on one condition. Dan should also be naked. Daniel laughed at the idea but saw that Callum was serious. It was the first time Daniel realised that there was a mutually sexual aspect to his fantasies. His quadruple amputee friend was still a man. Perhaps he would enjoy seeing Daniel in his birthday suit. The long walking cast on his leg was no deterrent. Daniel liked the way it looked and was pleased that he had been able to persuade the guy who did the casting to give him a rubber block on the bottom so he could walk on it. He wore a triple-soled Underground-brand shoe on his other foot and ditched the crutches. Daniel walked slowly with his heavy cast but enjoyed the sensation and knew other young men gave him appreciative glances as they passed.

 

They stripped together in Callum and Jared’s bedroom. Callum used his hooks to pull Dan’s jeans down followed by the boy’s underwear. Daniel’s handsome cock sprang out. Callum touched it with a hook, wishing he could feel its youthful power. Daniel leaned down to grip Callum’s prosthetic arms. Callum lifted his stumps and Daniel carefully removed the prostheses, spreading them across the bed. He took hold of Callum’s fresh stumps and inspected them, touching the sutures, appraising the overall shape and length.

            – They’re beautiful. I wish I could have a pair of hooks.

            – I need you to have hands for the foreseeable. I’m still learning to use them. But I agree with you. I’m very pleased with the way these stumps have turned out.

            – Callum, why do you use stubbies instead of long artificial legs?

            – I like my stumps being in the stubbies. They feel good and sturdy and I like the way I walk in them.

            – Don’t you mind being so short?

            – That’s the one disadvantage of them. But it’s not too bad.

            – I’d like to see you wearing long legs.

            – Maybe I’ll get a pair some time. But there’s no hurry. Now, hang my arms on the chair and get on the bed.

Daniel looked alarmed but obeyed. He leant on an arm and waiting further instruction.

            – Pull me onto the bed. Then you can take my stubbies off.

Daniel placed his arms under Callum’s armpits and lifted the amputee so Callum’s head rested on his chest. Callum gripped Daniel’s head between his stumps and pulled it to his face. He kissed Daniel. His tongue forced Daniel’s mouth open. Their breathing intensified as Callum sensed the return of his libido after weeks of recovery and Daniel discovered the real meaning behind a kiss. Callum’s stumps tried to hold Daniel closer but Daniel felt only his lover’s flesh moving over his own. Callum felt intense urgency and whispered Turn over. Daniel pushed himself onto his front. Callum, still wearing his stubbies, climbed onto Daniel’s legs and used a stump to let the boy know he should spread his buttocks. Callum heaved himself up Daniel’s prostrate body, his carbon stubbies striking the solid expanse of plaster covering Daniel’s leg. His penis sought entry into his friend. Daniel understood what was happening and raised his backside and pulled his buttocks apart with his hands. Callum’s arm stumps flailed uselessly as he tried to grip his penis to guide it towards his lover’s anus. It reached the sweet spot and as Daniel grunted in pain and excitement, Callum sank his straining tool into the boy’s colon, gradually pushing deeper inside. Daniel was almost panicking with the flood of erotic sensations—his lover’s stumps, his loss of virginity, the insistent pounding of Callum’s stubbies against his cast, which he could hear and feel well enough. Callum found his prostate and Daniel’s penis solidified as much as it could before his body shook and he ejaculated powerfully. He shouted in ecstasy and his body loosened, all tension fucked away. Callum waited for a few seconds until his erection diminished and scrabbled for balance with his slippery stubbies while extracting himself from Daniel. The lovers lay together, energy spent, Callum chuckling quietly. Daniel placed his hand between Callum’s shoulders and pulled him closer. They lay in each other’s warmth until Daniel’s ejaculate became uncomfortable to lay in and he asked to move.

 

Jared was discovering the inconvenience of handlessness. He was quite prepared psychologically to submit to being fed like an infant for a few days while he was in hospital. For their own unfathomable reasons, hospital policy was to disallow amputee patients access to their prosthetic limbs while they were bed-ridden. Jared’s right forearm was encased in bandages and his left stump was next to useless for anything practical. He had fellow patients on either side of him, a septuagenarian who had recently lost both feet to diabetes and a morose thirty-something city slicker whose left arm had been disarticulated at the shoulder following a drunken encounter between his e-bike and an eighteen-wheeler. The man had no insurance, he said, and would be seriously disadvantaged on the trading floors without the ability to signal manually. Jared thought it unlikely that the man would ever be fitted with an operational prosthesis and even so, it would be extremely cumbersome to use. He decided he was not in such a bad situation after all. He already had years’ experience of using an artificial arm and hook. A second one would not pose the same degree of disability as it would for a freshly amputated full-bodied person. He wanted to contact his prosthetist as soon as possible to book time for a fitting. His wrist felt sore but was not too painful to bear. He had asked to not have painkillers prescribed automatically and was reluctant to ask for any.

 

The new stump was appraised on the fourth morning. The flesh showed all signs of knitting neatly and after a stern talk from his surgeon Adams, he was discharged on condition that he attended the outpatient’s service on alternate days to have the dressing changed and so on. Jared had heard it all before. Adams put on quite the show for the attending staff. Jared had paid eight thousand pounds for his disarticulation but might gradually recoup the money by being officially eligible for health service prostheses in the future. Otherwise he would have had to finance them himself as a private patient. The head nurse promptly returned Jared’s prosthesis and assisted in securing the buckles on the upper arm’s cuff. Jared realised that he would have to have a different design in future. It would be next to impossible to deal with the buckles with his new hook. He was not convinced that the buckles were even necessary. The cuff could hardly move around in any direction. He would mention it to his prosthetist and suddenly realised that both his prostheses would be attached to a new harness. He was surprised at himself for not having thought about his new equipment before. Maybe he could design completely new sockets, something with a graphic design printed on them. Although his stumps were different, his sockets could be identical. Jared was content to know that his arms would be symmetrical. It was up to him to decide their appearance.

 

He left the hospital shortly after lunch. He would have preferred to leave before but there was confusion about his discharge papers and he reluctantly agreed to eat his final lukewarm meal of watery mashed potato with minced beef cooked with onions, none of it salted. It was extremely nutritious and would disgust a dog. He was helped with his prosthesis and its buckles, assuring the nurse that he would have assistance at home to remove the device. He cautiously swung his backpack over his shoulders and departed in a taxi. The driver was helpful in handling Jared’s wallet and extracting his credit card to pay for the ride. Unable, or unwilling to use his key, Jared rapped on his front door. He heard metallic scrabbling from the other side and knew that Callum was trying to open the lock with his hooks. After many seconds, Callum succeeded and the door opened. The two men hugged each other at different heights, their artificial arms clashing.

            – Come in! We weren’t expecting you.

            –Who’s we?

            – Oh, Dan is here except he’s out getting some dinner. How are you?

            – Well enough that they let me out. Thank God. I was going insane.

            – It’s only been four days. Imagine how I felt.

            – All behind us now. I can’t imagine that we’ll be back for any more amputations. I reckon we have the full set now.

 

Jared dropped his backpack and shrugged off his jacket. Callum stumped back to the kitchen and peered around the counter.

            – Do you want coffee?

            – Have we got anything stronger?

            – There’s some whisky in the fridge but I reckon we’ll have to wait for Dan to get back before we can have any.

            – Has he been here every day?

            –Yeah. He comes a bit before eleven and stays quite late. He’s really good to have around. Keeps me company and helps out whenever I need help.

            – OK, good. It was lucky to meet him, really.

            – That’s for sure. He’s been really helpful. I think there’s nothing he admires more than seeing me using my hooks. Or trying to. I’m still not very good with them.

            – Give it a while, Cal. It’s not easy.

            – No. Well, anyway, the funny thing is that he’s said more than once that he’d like hooks of his own before long and he also wants his casted leg off.

            – Quite the little wannabe, isn’t he? Well, it’s up to him. I’m pretty sure he can get rid of his leg easily enough. Just needs a cast tight enough to restrict blood flow and in a couple of days his leg will be a goner.

            – I’ve thought that. But how could he arrange anything like that? Not in a hospital, that’s for sure.

            – He’ll have to do it himself. With a little help, I suppose. Shall we give him a helping hand?

            – If only we could, Jared, if only we could.

 

Daniel returned with a bagful of groceries and handed Callum’s credit card back to him.

            – Jared is back.

            – Oh! So soon? I mean, that’s good.

            – Yes, it is. Go and say hello.

Daniel looked at the figure sprawled in an armchair. His black prosthesis and hook spread along one arm of the seat and his bandaged stump along the other. Daniel realised that his sex games with Callum were at an end.

            – Hello Jared! Welcome home. How are you?

            – Fine, thanks. A bit inconvenienced, maybe. You OK? Thanks for helping out.

            –It’s alright. I’m OK. I did what you said and made them give me a walking cast. It’s ever so much better than being on crutches.

            – Told you! So what have you been up to while I was away?

            – Well, I did some shopping and then helped Callum cook some lunch, you know, peeling potatoes and that sort of thing.

            – And what else did you do? Oh, don’t look like that, Daniel! I can see from here that there was something else you helped him with.

            – Are you angry?

            –No, not at all. Curious, is all.

            – Well, we sort of…

            – Sort of had it off, is my guess. Right?

            – Yeah, we did.

            – Ha! Knew it! It was because of Callum’s stumps, wasn’t it? If Callum had his limbs, you wouldn’t have dreamed of even talking to him, would you?

            – No, but he wouldn’t have met me, either. So I’ve been more than just his fuckboy.

            – Yes, you have, Dan. I don’t mean to criticise. I’m not angry or jealous. Just so I know. Was it good?

            – What do you mean?

            – Was the sex good? Did you enjoy fucking a limbless man?

            – It was the other way around! He fucked me.

            – Really? I would never have guessed. I shall have to have a word with Callum later this evening.

            –Oh please don’t get me into trouble. I would love to come here again. Don’t make him hate me. I want to see you again too.

            – With my arm stumps.

            – Yes. With your arm stumps. I hope the new one is alright.

            – It’s fine. Well, Daniel. I’m grateful for the help you’ve given Callum and I hope you aren’t embarrassed at what you’ve been up to.

Daniel looked down at his feet and seemed crestfallen. How was it possible for Jared to guess so easily what he and Callum had been up to? Perhaps this was the way all horny young men behaved.

            – I’m sorry, Jared.

            – No reason to be. Did you have a good time?

            – Yes. I never want to love another man who doesn’t have at least one amputation.

            – Then our job is done! Do you still want your leg off?

            – More than anything!

            – When do you get that cast changed?

            – Seven weeks.

            – And will you get a new one?

            –I’m not sure.

            – Well, if you don’t, you can buy the plaster bandages from somewhere on-line and we’ll give you the sort of cast which will make them cut your leg off.

            – Really? How will you do that?

            – Let’s get to that point first. It could be that the hospital gives you a new walking cast. I have to say, I like the way it looks on you. I hope you have to wear it for a long time. Sorry if that sounds a bit ungenerous.

            – It’s alright. I like having a cast I can walk on. It makes me feel disabled but not too much.

            – Do you want to feel disabled always, Dan?

            – I’ve not thought about it for always. I don’t know. I want my leg off. Does that make me disabled? If I have an artificial leg, would I be disabled? Only for five minutes in the morning before I put it on. Not like you and Callum. Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.

            – Do you mean we’re still disabled even after we get our hooks on?

Daniel perused his feet again. Why could he not control his mouth?

            – I’m sorry, Jared. I’ve been watching Callum and he seems so disabled without his hands.

            – And so do I, I suppose?

            – Well yeah. I hope you can do better than Callum. I mean, you’ve had your hook arm for much longer than Callum has.

            – True enough. I like my hook and that’s why I didn’t mind losing my stumpy fingers. I’ll have a new hook in a few weeks and carry on as normal. It’s different for Callum. He’s still trying to learn how to use his hooks. Do you like his stumps?

            – You mean when he takes his hooks off? Yeah, they look really good. Such a nice shape.

            – Like a couple of dicks.

            – Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. Jared! I never thought that!

            – No, I don’t think you did. But you will now.

            – Will I ever see them again? I don’t know.

            – If you stick around, you’ll see them often enough. Would you like that, Dan? To come and visit us when you want?

            – Are you serious? Really? I’d love it. Thank you, Jared. I was sure you’d be angry with me when you found out about… Well, but I’d love to come and help you if you want.

            – Good. You can be our hands and if you want, we can help you lose your leg.

            – I can’t think of anything I’d like more.

Daniel lurched across to where Jared sat and leant to hug him. Jared held his stumps out to the side, wary of the gratitude the young cripple wanted to express. The expression of relief on the boy’s face was unmistakable. Daniel went back to the kitchen and started making a lunch for three.

 

Daniel’s presence was regular and reliable. Every morning he made the long journey by bus and arrived cheerful and willing to do minor chores or go grocery shopping. Jared often accompanied him. Daniel’s curiosity and brash enthusiasm was both gratifying and amusing. He frequently asked questions about the older men’s amputations and prosthetic limbs which would normally be regarded as indiscrete if not downright intrusive. But Jared understood the boy’s mindset, sharing it himself in many ways. He admired the way Daniel brandished his full length plaster cast which was on full display. Daniel had sliced the trouser leg of his jeans off. He had kept the surface of the plaster clean of graffiti. Daniel had initially been wary of Jared but their relationship warmed during the times they spent in each other’s company. It was fun talking to the double amputee with the one hook and slowly, Daniel’s desire to copy his idols solidified into cast iron determination to use not one but two steel hooks and an artificial leg as soon as possible. He wanted to keep one leg in order to remain mobile with a prosthesis, walking around doing everything with his hooks.

 

Jared was fitted with his second artificial arm. The old prosthesis was transferred to a new harness from which the two black carbon sockets were suspended and to which two curved black leather cuffs were attached to guide the control cables from Jared’s back and shoulders to the hooks. He had selected another standard Hosmer five and after the preliminary fitting and inevitable adjustments, he stood in front of a broad mirror admiring his appearance. It was gratifying to appear symmetrical again. His stumps did not match but they were now invisible inside the identical sockets. Jared intended to wear his prosthetics always. Callum was far more willing to shuck his arms and bare his stumps in public. Jared preferred to display his glossy artificial arms instead. Both men admired the other’s choice and Daniel was spoilt for choice when the threesome were together. Callum, on his cylindrical stubbies, was a surprising sight everywhere he went and his muscular hairy arm stumps, mirror images of each other, were the cherry on the cake.

 

Jared had a week to accustom himself to having two operational arms again before returning to his job in the town planning office. His colleagues were concerned to see him fitted with two artificial arms but Jared was nonchalant about his loss, which he saw as a gain, and within days no-one paid his additional disablement any attention. Jared soon caught up with the latest developments concerning the pedestrianisation of the town centre and settled back into the usual challenging routine.

 

Callum’s case was more difficult. His profession required a good deal of practical fine mechanics and electronics and his handsome stumps were useless at handling screwdrivers or any delicate equipment. Callum reached a deal with his employer. He would be kept on the payroll for another three months during which time a new role for his professional knowledge would be sought within the company. But if none such were forthcoming, he would be asked to tender his resignation and apply for a disability pension. Until then, he was free to search for other employment or source of income with the proviso that it was not with a competitor. Callum weighed his options and discussed them with Jared. The best advice he could offer was to hope that the company would find something for him otherwise he ought to start looking into other work. Twenty-six was still a little young to be pensioned off even due to a full set of prosthetic limbs.

 

– – – – – – -

 

School started again for Daniel. It was his last year and his final exam results would dictate his future studies, if any. He was interested in maths and physics for a career and imagined himself working in a laboratory somewhere, wielding his hooks and walking around with his prosthetic leg on display. For the time being, he had to make do with his walking cast. His schoolmates were itching to sign their names on it and were indignant when Daniel refused to let them. His two monthly appointment was scheduled one afternoon when the rest of the boys had a sports lesson and were playing football. Daniel’s cast was removed and the leg examined by ultrasound and x‑ray. It had lost a considerable amount of muscle tissue and looked pale and weak. Daniel was adamant that he wanted it amputated. His doctor discussed his situation with him and sounded suitably serious.

            – I’m afraid I have some not so good news, Daniel. Your bones are healing but there is still some danger of further injury if we allow you to walk around only on crutches without a cast. So I’m sorry to say that we are going to reapply a walking cast and we’ll check the situation again in ten weeks. I’m sorry if you were looking forward to getting rid of the cast at last.

            – It’s alright, doctor. I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me.

            – Good. I’m glad to hear it.

Daniel was shortly wheeled to the casting room where a familiar technician greeted him and prepared to apply the fifth cast which Daniel had worn. Daniel hoped that the ruse which he had planned with Jared and Callum would work. It was worth a try.

 

The technician covered Daniel’s leg with stockinette and cotton wool and began wrapping the leg with wet plaster of Paris. It was a familiar procedure.

            – John, I think it’s too loose. You need to wrap it tighter.

            – I can’t do it too tightly.

            – I know but I hate it when my leg moves inside the cast.

            – Oh! We can’t have that. Was the old cast like that?

            – Yeah. It was really uncomfortable.

            – Oh well, in that case, I’ll wrap you more snugly. You’d better let me know when it feels firm on your leg, OK?

            – Alright. Can you do the foot part again before it hardens?

John the technician unwound the plaster bandage, inspected it and threw it in the disposal bin. He restarted and used more pressure. The patient’s leg had atrophied slightly and perhaps required a more intimate fit. He continued up the leg, careful to wrap the knee according to how Daniel directed. He used a generous amount of plaster and the tight cast grew in girth and strength. Daniel’s toes were already tingling because of the lack of blood flow. If only they didn’t turn purple before John was finished. He still had the rubber block to add and that would make the foot bulkier.

            – You could make the bit above my knee a little tighter, John. That’s the part that always seems the loosest.

John applied more pressure and Daniel’s entire leg was again in a rigid cast. John busied himself fitting the rubber walking heel and tidying the gap around the patient’s toes which were protected by the cast which extended forward more than usual. Then the wait began for the cast to dry. Daniel was brought a cup of tea and some biscuits while he waited. His leg throbbed. An hour later, he was allowed to leave and hobbled slowly towards the bus stop. The new cast’s rubber heel was in a slightly different position and caused Daniel to limp more obviously than usual.

 

Daniel arrived home to an empty house. His mother had long since returned to work, in the accountancy department of a large store in Watford. His father commuted into the City every day. Daniel was quite accustomed to being left to his own devices. He was beginning to feel light‑headed for reasons he did not understand. His leg ached and he could feel his pulse inside the thick plaster. He sat at one end of the couch, the cast spread along it, and streamed a couple of comedy shows.

 

His mother arrived home shortly after seven and joined her son.

            – I wasn’t expecting you to get another cast, Dan. I thought the previous one would be the last, with the heel and all.

            – I know. I didn’t expect it either but the doctor looked at the x-rays and said he wasn’t confident that the bones around my knee had knitted yet. It’s the knee they’re worried about.

            – Yes, that’s what they’ve told us, too. Well, my boy. There’s nothing else but to grin and bear it. You don’t really mind wearing the cast though, do you? It certainly doesn’t seem to slow you down, with you always around your friend’s place. Have you had anything to eat?

            – No, not yet. I was waiting for you.

            – Would you like some pasta? That will be quick and we have some bolognese sauce in the freezer.

            – Yes, please. That would hit the spot.

            – Alright. Twenty minutes.

 

Daniel wished his parents good night earlier than usual and slept fitfully until he heard his father rise in the morning. He got up and immediately sensed that there was something wrong with his leg. It felt like it weighed a ton. It was really difficult to walk on. His hip no longer seemed able to swing it. Despite that, Daniel managed his morning toilet and joined his father for a bowl of müesli and coffee before he left for the station.

            – How’s your leg?

            – It feels a bit funny. I suppose the cast is a different shape from what I’m used to. It’ll be alright after a bit.

            – Do you feel alright? You look a bit off-colour to me.

            – It’ll be OK once I get back into the swing of things. It’s all the sitting around which gets me down.

            – Yeah, I suppose so. Well, have a good day at school. I must be off. Bye, son.

 

Daniel had difficulty concentrating on his schoolwork. His leg hurt and he felt sick. His heart was beating too fast, it seemed, and he could feel it. He had a bite to eat at lunch time and sat through an hour of history before he felt unwell enough to ask the vice-head if he might be excused for the rest of the day as he was feeling weak, tired and unable to concentrate. The vice-head was also concerned by the boy’s colour and gave permission for him to go home immediately.

 

Once home, Daniel stretched out again on the couch with the tv on but had no interest in the programmes. He felt thirsty but the thought of having to get up and go to the kitchen for a glass of water felt overwhelming. He caught up on his missed sleep for five hours until his mother returned and found him. She was concerned by her son’s appearance. He looked much worse than the previous evening, chalky white, hardly moving. She called for an ambulance and within the hour, Daniel was back at the hospital. It did not take long for his long cast to come under suspicion. If it were too tight, all kinds of problems were possible. Daniel’s leg was investigated again with ultrasound and to the horror of his doctor, several blood clots presented themselves. The cast was far too tight and had restricted blood flow, causing clots to form. There was nothing for it but imminent amputation of the wrecked limb before any of the clots broke free and caused havoc. Daniel was rushed into theatre and schedules were disrupted in order for his right leg to be removed leaving ten centimetres of femur.

 

His parents were informed immediately, although since Daniel was a legal adult of eighteen, their permission had not been necessary for the amputation. They were warned that it would be futile to visit before the next day. Jared and Callum did not learn of their young admirer’s situation until several days later, when Daniel was recovered well enough for him to be allowed to sit up and take part in life on the amputee ward, such as it was. He sent Callum a terse text message:

         it worked! am amputee. v short stump

Callum replied with congratulations and asked which hospital Dan was in. He said he would make an attempt to pay a visit one evening.

 

Callum and Jared faced many weeks without the assistance of Daniel. Jared was forced into adapting to using his second hook in place of his finger stumps and was privately pleased both at his progress and the appearance of two matching black sockets and hooks working together. Life would have been a little easier if Callum stood taller. Jared mentioned it to him while they were relaxing in front of the tv.

            – I’ve been thinking that we’d be a better team here at home if you had long legs. I mean, quite often I want to ask you to lend a hand with something but you wouldn’t be able to help because you’re too short on your stubbies.

            – So what are you suggesting? You want me to get a pair of legs?

            – Yeah. And think of Daniel too. He’s going to need some support soon and it would be good if the pair of you could go through the process at the same time.

            – Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’d still wear my stubbies at work, though.

            – Of course! You could leave them there, though, and change into stubbies when you arrive.

            – OK. I’ll give Lewis Cox a call and see what the situation is.

            – Good man. I’d like to see eye-to-eye with you again.

 

Cox was amused by Callum’s enquiry. He had expected Callum to want both prostheses and stubbies and was surprised when Callum insisted that stubbies would suffice. He had certainly lasted a lot longer than Cox had thought.

            – How are your stubbies fitting your stumps these days? Any sign of slippage or looseness?

            – No, they’re fine. Good and tight.

            – And you wear them all day?

            – Yup, about twelve hours minimum. Usually longer.

            – Good. Here’s what I suggest. I’ll use your previous moulds to make your legs. I’m going to use bog standard components because I think you’re skilful enough to control them.

            – OK, that’s fine.

            – I assume you don’t want any cosmetic coverings on the legs.

            – No! Just bog standard.

            – Ha! Alright, Callum. I’ll get started and let you know when you can come in for a fitting.  It’ll be a couple of weeks.

            – That’s fine, Dr Cox. Thanks very much.

 

Daniel’s stump healed well. The wound was still livid but would fade in time and the swelling would diminish, leaving a well-formed short rounded stump. His surgeon spoke with him about a prosthetic limb and mentioned osseo-integration. Daniel was interested in the technique but reluctant to spoil the appearance of his new stump with a titanium connector poking out the end.

            – I think I’d prefer an ordinary artificial leg, please, doctor.

            – Well, your stump is rather short and you may need extra suspension such as a belt around your waist.

            – That’s alright.

            – Very well. I’ll put in the papers and let you know when your prosthetist can see you. You can talk about what sort of prosthesis you want with him then.

            – Thank you, sir.

 

Five days later, Daniel’s stump was deemed robust enough for an initial fitting. He was wheeled to the ortho lab and met his prosthetist, Troy Bryant, an ex-marine who had trained as a medic and served for over twenty years until a mishap with some ordnance cost him his left hand. He was completely bald, muscular, stern and Daniel could not take his eyes off the man’s steel hook.

            – Right, young man. Let’s get you sorted. Have you given any thought to what you want?

            – Er, no sir. I need an artificial leg so I suppose that’s what I want.

            – Alright. First things first. I’m going to make a cast of the stump so I can get the socket made. Clear enough, yes? Sit on the bench and get your trousers off and let’s have a look at what we have to work with.

Daniel rose from his wheelchair and hopped across to the casting bench to undress. Bryant busied himself with rearranging his casting frame and fetching a bowl of warm water and a box of plaster bandages. He inspected Daniel’s stump and compared it with an x-ray. He held the flesh and traced the suture with the cold tip of his hook. Daniel’s semi-erect penis stiffened further and he cringed in embarrassment. Bryant made no mention of it but was pleased that the boy’s libido had already recovered from his injury.

 

Bryant replaced his hook with a silicon hand, completely inert but useful for applying and smoothing plaster bandages.

            – Come and stand here for me.

Bryan wrapped a generous amount of plaster around the stump and Daniel’s buttock. His penis maintained its girth throughout the process.

            – Now you need to wait a few minutes for the plaster to dry. Are you OK standing?

            – Yes sir.

            – Good. We’ll have a look at components for your leg afterward and I can order them in.

Bryant replaced his hook and tidied his work space. Daniel watched him using his artificial arm as if it were completely natural. The hook opened and closed at exactly the right moment as the ex‑soldier performed his job. Daniel was impressed and excited at seeing a man who really knew how to use his hook. Callum and Jared were impressive too, but their movements were always halting and hesitant. Bryant knew exactly what he was doing. Daniel wanted to be able to use a hook as well as him. Or two, like his friends.

 

The cast was removed and Bryant washed plaster residue from around Daniel’s stump and genitals.

            – Right. You can put your trousers back on now. Come over to the table when you’re ready and we’ll have a look at some legs.

 

Daniel explained what he would like to be able to accomplish. He was not sporty but expected to be able to wear his prosthesis for long periods. He intended to be the kind of man who wore his artificial limb without complaint and expected it to be comfortable and efficient for normal daily life. Bryant nodded and together they drew the design of a prosthesis with a hinged socket with a Velcro belt, a steel pylon leading to a mechanical knee joint and another pylon terminating in a sprung foot with a cosmetic cover on it. The socket would require some careful attention, otherwise the limb would be simplicity itself to assemble from standard components.

            – Are you sure you don’t want any covering on the leg? It’ll look rather odd as you walk with one thin leg inside your trousers.

            – It’s alright. I think I’m going to wear shorts as much as possible.

            – Oh, you want to be a bit extrovert with it, do you? OK, that’s fine. I see from your papers that you’re being discharged this afternoon.

            – Really? I didn’t know that!

            – Yes. After the fitting. There’s no reason for you to hang around here any longer. You can go home on crutches or in a wheelchair and I’ll send you a message when you can come in to try the leg.

            – That’s great!

            – You’d better wait until the hospital staff let you know and you can sign your discharge papers. Don’t just pack up and disappear.

            – No, I won’t. Thank you, Doctor Bryant.

            – You’re welcome. I’m not a doctor, though.

 

Daniel was discharged officially by four in the afternoon and left, strolling powerfully on his familiar crutches. It felt very different from when he had last used them without the weight of his casted leg. The emptiness was fantastic. His short stump was perfect and he would shortly have the most basic kind of fake leg imaginable. If only he could work out a way to get arm stumps too, it would be ideal. To have two artificial arms with steel hooks which worked as well as Dr Bryant used his.

 

Daniel’s parents were delighted to have their son home again, once again on his familiar crutches but for a different reason. They had both surmised over a year ago that their seriously injured boy might become permanently disabled by his accident. The amputation was one of the alternatives which they had considered and they regarded it as the least of several evils. The boy would be spared the inconvenience of dealing with a permanently straight rigid leg, probably shortened several inches and supported by a built-up boot and callipers. Or a weakened leg, always painful. A prosthesis was more easily dealt with. They watched Daniel closely for a couple of days, judging his mood and behaviour. Daniel was happy to be home, happy with his stump and happy to be on crutches with his trouser leg folded up and tucked into his waist. He thought he looked fine. He had a few days still before he was due back at school and wanted to spend some time with Callum discussing their favourite subject. He was pretty sure Callum and Jared would want to see his stump too.

 

He texted Callum and received an invitation to arrive any time. Weeks had past since they last met. This time, it was unlikely that Daniel would be tasked with anything like a grocery run, although he could do a few things around the flat. Daniel wore his cut-off jeans which barely covered his stump. He put a white shrinker sock on the stump out of decorum.

 

            – How are you getting on? Back on crutches again, I see.

            – Yeah. Only for a couple of weeks, though. I’ve already been fitted for a leg.

            – What sort are you getting?

            – Just bare pylons and a mechanical knee.

            – None of this bionic stuff, then?

            – No. I don’t think it’s any good and I don’t like the idea of having to keep recharging it. Do you want to see my stump?

            – Of course I do!

Daniel dropped his jeans and lifted them onto a chair with the tips of his crutches. He peeled the shrinker sock from his stump and leaned on his crutches. He lifted the stump forward for Callum to inspect.

            – Great! But it’s pretty short, Dan. Is that what you wanted?

            – More or less. My artificial leg is going to have a belt to hold it on around my waist and I’ll probably always walk so that people can guess I’m an amputee. I’m not having any covers put on my leg. It’s just one long skinny leg made of tubes.

            – Are you going to wear it with these jeans?

            – Well, I might. I suppose it depends how often I have to access my stump or the socket.

            – That’s one reason. And the other reason is that you might like showing your leg off.

            – I might! Callum, I wanted to ask you about getting the amputations you wanted when you had your hands off. How did you go about that?

            – Why do you want to know?

            – I want to use hooks like you and Jared.

            – Is the leg stump not enough for you? You want to make yourself more disabled?

            – I don’t think it’s being disabled. It’s doing things in a different way.

            – Wait till you have a pair of hooks and see what you think then! You might change your mind.

            – But is it a bad thing? Are you sorry you lost your hands? Don’t you love your hooks?

            – No, being disabled isn’t a bad thing, especially if you have someone to help. It would be awkward if you were on your own, I reckon. I do like my hooks but they don’t do everything I’d like them to.

            – Like what?

            – Oh, little things. Tying shoelaces, dressing in general. Can’t do buttons up. Making food is slow too. But I’m getting used to it. Half the fun is planning ahead, so the hooks can grip what I want.

            – That’s what I want to experience.

            – Look, Dan. I think you’d better get yourself used to being a one-legged man first before you start thinking about anything else. You’ve still got your studies to get through. Imagine all the writing you need to do for uni. You wouldn’t manage that without hands, not as a new amputee anyway.

            – I know. I’m going to have to work out what I want to do after school. See if I get a place at uni somewhere.

            – Good. It’s better that way. But Jared is the man to talk to about the voluntary amputations. He arranged mine, actually.

 

The amputees made themselves lunch and settled to stream some videos on tv. Callum told Daniel about his own fitting for artificial legs, encouraged by Jared. He might have them some time during the following week. The ever-present possibility of sex lurked in the background although neither man brought it up. Daniel’s stump was still too fresh to subject it to the rigours of a session with Callum. Daniel was tremendously proud of the fact that his erect penis was longer than his stump.

 

Jared arrived home just before six. He was pleased to see Daniel looking chipper and listened to his thoughts on his amputation, his stump and how he felt about his new body image. Jared was content to see the stump poking out of Dan’s jeans. Not wanting to intrude on his friends’ privacy, Daniel shortly rose on his long leg and wished them a good week. He swung silently on his long wooden crutches and left them.

 

            – Daniel didn't mention it but he wants to lose his hands as well. I told him he should talk to you.

            – He didn’t mention it but I’ve known about it for quite a while. I have a suggestion for him when he plucks up the courage to ask.

            – Oh? What might that be?

            – Double disarticulations at the wrist. Much faster recovery, two sturdy stumps which can be concealed in long sockets, and a much lower price for the amputations.

            – Sounds good. Do you think he’ll go for having long stumps? I think he likes the look of mine. They’re probably what he has in mind for himself.

            – I’ll show him mine and he can make his mind up. I don’t think he’s seen my naked stumps. He won’t realise they’re different sizes.

            – It sounds like you think it might be something for the near future.

            – Well, why not? He wants his hands off, to use hooks for the rest of his life.

            – I said he’d be better off waiting until he’s finished uni.

            – No, that’s hardly necessary. There’s enough technology on your phone now to make note‑taking a thing of the past and any keyboard can be used with hooks. You know that. No, the sooner he can arrange his affairs so the amputations are viable, the better.

            – How much will Adams want for two disarts, do you think?

            – I’ll offer him four thou and see what he says. Five is my limit.

            – Do you think Daniel can afford that?

            – Daniel has his own money. Hasn’t he told you? His parents both work in finance and they created an account for Daniel when he was a toddler. If I understand correctly, Daniel has a very comfortable amount in his name and now he’s of age, he can use it how he wants. I should think five thousand is well within his capability.

            – I suppose so. Do you think it’s wise to let him lose his hands so soon?

            – It’s not really a decision for us to make, is it? You know better than anyone the attraction and Daniel is totally obsessed with amputation.

            – True.

            – So the sooner the better. Although I do think he should probably wait until he’s done his finals. Maybe after he’s left school and before he starts at uni. A few weeks should be enough to get him fitted with his new hooks.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Callum was the first to be fitted with new prostheses. Lewis Cox had done a superb job with Callum’s legs. The masculine and muscular sockets were smooth black carbon and the other components were mirrored steel. The ankles and feet were charcoal grey, covered with flesh-coloured cosmetic feet with a slit between the big toe and the others to allow an amputee to wear sandals. Cox had instructed Callum to bring in the pair of shoes he intended wearing so he could adjust the ankle to a suitable angle. It was the first thing attended to. Callum handed over a newish pair of Dr Marten’s. Cox pushed them onto the feet and succeeded in altering the height of the ankle. He laced the boots correctly and tied the long laces around the shafts.

            – That’s something you won’t need to do for a while. Have you practised tying shoelaces?

            – Yes I have and no, I can’t.

            – No. It takes a while to get the knack. But keep at it. Now, let’s see how these fit.

Callum rolled pin liners onto his thigh stumps using the outer edges of his hooks. Cox would have helped but preferred amputee patients to attempt such tasks themselves before intervening. He handed three-ply cotton stump socks to Callum, who pulled them over the liners. Callum lifted the left prosthesis and slid his stump into it, pulling from the knee mechanism with his hooks. The pin connector clicked into position and Callum continued with the right prosthesis.

            – When you stand, try to force your stumps deeper into the sockets. Three or four clicks should do it. How do they feel?

            – Exactly the same as my stubbies. Really comfortable.

            – I’m relieved to hear it. I was fairly certain the fit would be correct but it’s good to have confirmation. See if you can get up. You’ll need to straighten one leg and twist yourself around onto it. Use your arms to push yourself up.

            – Easy for you to say.

            – You have no other way, Callum. Other men can use a cane to help them rise. You cannot. I am perfectly aware of the limitation of your artificial arms but you must use what you have to do what needs to be done.

            – Yeah, you’re right. Sorry if I sounded flippant.

            – Not at all. Try again, Callum. Lean forward more over the leg. Can you push with your elbows? You do have a length of forearm, do you not?

            – Yes, my stumps are half the old length.

            – It should be enough if your arm sockets fit securely. Give it another try. Try pushing on the front of the seat.

Callum gave it his best effort and stretched his hooks out in front of him as he rose. He was able to straighten the second knee and waved his arms to maintain balance until he stood erect, looking at his reflection in the full‑length mirror on the adjacent wall. The greatest surprise was to see himself standing tall. The next impression was of a familiar figure transformed into a cyborg. A quadruple amputee kitted out with matching black artificial limbs, none of them fully resembling human limbs.

            – As you can see, the shins are shorter than they would normally be. It is the disadvantage of prosthetic legs for knee disart patients such as yourself, although later, it should be possible to extend them if you feel you can manage the extra length. Grab hold of the bars and try balancing on each foot in turn.

 

Callum and Cox worked on adjusting the new legs until Cox was satisfied and Callum was impatient to practise walking. The black Dr Marten’s boots were ideal for use with prosthetic legs. Callum took a series of short steps, testing his balance, before finding additional confidence and striding forward with the same motion he used with his stubbies. The shins and feet moved accurately under him. Cox was impressed. Few bilateral amputees succeeded in walking any distance on their first attempt but Callum was making good progress, thanks in part to his complete thighs. Slow and sure.

            – How does it feel, Callum? I want to know about things like fit, length and balance issues.

            – What can I say? These feel great. The sockets are familiar and the feet seem to be reliable enough.

            – Alright. I would like to offer you a walking stick but…

            – But there’s no way I can hold one firmly enough to lean on it. So thanks but no thanks.

            – As I thought. Well, I’m prepared to let you have the legs if you feel ready. What do you think?

            – I think I’ll take them. No need to wrap them.

 

 

In another orthopaedic laboratory not far distant, Troy Bryant was working on another artificial leg. A wide rubberised leather belt was attached to an inch-wide steel hinge which extended along a short thigh socket. The hinge mechanism automatically adjusted to allow the user to stand erect but released tension after reaching a certain angle allowing the user to sit. A long steel pylon reached from the socket to a mechanical knee and another steel pylon terminated, temporarily, in a large rubber ferrule. Bryant checked his handiwork and his schedule and composed a text message for Daniel.

            – prosthesis ready for first fitting fri 29th 10:30

 

Callum’s next conundrum was how to get home. He could call a taxi and face the struggle to get in and out of it with unfamiliar prosthetic legs while carrying his stubbies or change back into his familiar short legs and carry the new ones. Disregarding Callum’s quip, Cox arranged the prosthetic legs on a large sheet of brown paper and tied a well-balanced package which Callum could carry under one arm. Callum returned home on short legs and immediately took his new legs into the bedroom. He climbed onto his bed, doffed the stubbies and donned his new legs. He pushed himself upright by laying on his front and reversing. Callum thought it was a very good trick and much easier than trying to stand from a normal seated position. He wandered out into the hallway to admire himself again in front of the mirror, a prosthetic man. Callum had an insistent erection straining in his underwear and momentarily regretted not having a pair of warm hands to tame the beast but he hooked his member into a more comfortable position and repositioned his plastic feet as he inspected himself from several angles. He had already reached his final configuration by the age of twenty-seven. The change had happened so quickly. He had some serious work ahead of him. He not only had to learn to walk again, his hooks were far from familiar. Every morning when he pushed his stumps into the black sockets, he was momentarily surprised to see steel hooks instead of natural hands. He had always been fascinated by seeing other men wearing a hook or two. It seemed different when you were wearing them yourself. Instead of being some kind of macho body modification, they were intimate tools which needed skill and patience to use. Callum was prepared to learn but remembering the difficulty he had with his arms, he wondered if his long artificial legs would pose a similar problem. He slowly rotated himself to face the other way and lurched into the kitchen to brew some coffee. If there were some cognac or something around too, it would be a fine thing.

 

Daniel read Bryant’s message and whooped. He punched the air. Two more days and he would be walking again. He would wear soccer shorts for his fitting and walk out with his new artificial leg on full display for anyone to see. Let them look! He sent a reply acknowledging his prosthetist’s invitation and sent a new message to Callum to let him know he would soon be on two feet again.

 

The company where Callum worked had a policy of allowing team leaders to hold a bi-monthly meeting to keep different departments up‑to‑date with developments. Everyone knew that Callum had suffered additional injuries. Life was cruel, there was no denying it. Not only had the man lost his legs in a motorcycle accident, he was now condemned to using hooks. His department’s boss had been requested by management to see if there were any possible openings in the company for a man who was physically handicapped but whose mind was sharp and widely knowledgeable. Both the research and marketing departments could find a place for a mobile disabled person. Marketing was not keen on employing a wheelchair user. It was understandable. A successful applicant would need to travel widely and frequently. The additional costs for an invalid were not justifiable which finance affirmed. Research was interested because the department had worked with Callum before and knew that the man was both capable and enthusiastic. Assuming he was mobile, it would make no difference if he had natural hands or artificial arms. Digital communication tehnology would allow anyone who could operate a phone complete access to everything a meteorological researcher needed. A vote was taken and it was decided that the Research Department would contact with Callum regarding his interest in joining a new research team to specialise in Nordic and Arctic weather research. One wit quipped that he was the ideal candidate since there was no chance he would suffer frostbite. The other attendees groaned but it was entirely correct. Callum was the ideal man.

 

Jared was surprised to see his flatmate standing at his new full height.

            – Whoah! New legs! How do they feel?

            – Great. Just the same as my stubbies except I have to kick extra hard to get the knees to bend. I’ve been strolling up and down the hall all afternoon.

            – You look great.

Jared spread his artificial arms wide and hugged his friend. Jared felt nothing. Callum could feel pressure on his ribs. The gesture was the main thing. Jared went to the living room to unwind after his day and Callum sauntered in, rocking himself from side to side. He held the back of a dining chair and sat, forcing his legs to bend. He told Jared about his experience with Cox and how he had had to deal with carrying the new set of legs from the clinic to the taxi and home.

            – But now it looks like all you need to do is learn to use those as well as your stubbies and you’ll be set.

            – Set for life.

            – Yup! Four artificial limbs. What more could a man desire? Four great stumps. I really like them, Cal. I like the way you look without your limbs on. I hope you can learn to use them all but I like knowing the real you underneath.

            – The quad.

            – The quad. Right. You’re the man for me.

 

Daniel crutched in to prosthetist Bryant’s workshop and shook his hand. Bryant was wearing a bionic hand, a black segmented thing which extended too far. Daniel wondered if it were something he wore because he wanted to flog something similar to someone else later in the day. Bryant directed Daniel to removed his shorts and brought the pristine artificial leg for fitting.

            – Oh! It looks like a peg leg! That’s brilliant.

            – I want you to test the leg first without the foot. The stomper is easier to walk on. Did you bring your other shoe?

            – Yes sir. It’s in my bag.

            – Right. Stand up and let’s give this a try.

Bryant held the prosthesis for Daniel. He rolled a shrinker onto his stump and inserted it into the socket. Bryant showed him how the permanently attached belt fitted around his waist to keep the leg on firmly.

            – Try swinging your leg. I want to see the knee bending.

Daniel did as requested. The leg felt odd, restrictive, but it was fine to be able to stand again without needing crutches. Bryant soon had him walking up and down between the parallel bars. Daniel realised that the tentative limp could be tamed when he found his rhythm. The leg was sturdy, the knee mechanism held and the rubber ferrule gripped the floor. Daniel put his trust in the device and swung his stump more forcefully. The knee bent, straightened and held.

            – Don’t look at your leg. Look straight ahead. Watch yourself in the mirror.

Daniel raised his head and looked at the peg-legged figure staring at himself. The pylons were a shocking contrast compared with his natural leg. Daniel loved the look. Bryant squatted at one end of the bars, studying the boy’s gait, checking his workmanship. He was satisfied. He rolled a chair to the parallel bars.

            – Sit here and I’ll change your foot. I’ll get your shoe from your bag, OK?

            – Yes sir.

Five minutes later, Daniel was wearing a pair of trainers for the first time in over a year. Walking on the artificial foot felt a little different from the peg. Bryant made several small adjustments to the ankle mechanism, changing the angle at which the foot hit the floor.

            – Alright, Daniel. I think you’re ready to go. How do you like having two legs again?

            – It feels great. Thank you very much.

            – Don’t mention it. OK, put your shorts on and we’ll sign the paperwork.

            – Do I get to keep the peg leg bit?

            – The stomper foot? Yes, you can have that. If you swap it for the foot, make sure you don’t touch the screws which control the angle of your foot, do you understand? If you think you need an alteration, you’d better drop by here and I’ll do it for you. You don’t yet have the experience to know what you’re doing.

            – No, sir.

Daniel left, walking with a conspicuous limp, carrying his crutches in one hand. His socket was concealed under his shorts. Only the narrow steel pylons were visible. Daniel attracted the attention of everyone he passed. The peg leg stomper foot was in his back pack and he intended to exchange the foot for the stomper as soon as he got home. He wanted to show his leg off to Callum, too.

 

Daniel arrived home in the early afternoon. His parents would not be home for hours. He messaged Callum and received a short reply: come round! Daniel took the stomper foot from his bag and examined it to work out how to remove the foot wearing his trainer. He bent over and then thought it would be easier if he removed his leg. He shucked his shorts and undid the broad belt around his waist. He turned the leg upside down and set about removing the foot. The stomper was simple to attach. Daniel poked his stump back into the short socket and tightened the belt. He pegged into his bedroom to find his cut-off jeans. He wanted his entire prosthesis to be visible to one and all. The stomper foot looked astonishing. So alien. Daniel thought he might wear it permanently. It was easier to walk on than the prosthetic foot.

 

Callum was already on his feet when Daniel rang the doorbell. Both of them burst into laughter on seeing each other. Callum was standing at his normal height which Daniel had never seen before and Daniel looked completely unrecognisable without his signature full‑length leg cast. The long steel peg leg was stunning. Daniel hugged Callum, whose artificial arms hung motionless at his sides. They went to the kitchen, where Callum half sat, half leaned against a tall stool and Daniel struck a pose with his legs spread and his arms folded. Callum’s eyes devoured the sight. Dan looked absolutely stunning. The prosthesis would have looked shocking even with a foot and matching trainer. The large rubber ferrule which turned the device into a peg leg made it even more spectacular.

            – Fantastic! What’s it like to walk on?

            – Great. It seems to be nicely balanced – you know, the shin bit swings without needing to kick it too hard and the stomper is easy to step over.

            – Is that what it’s called?

            – Well, it’s what my leg man has been calling it, so I suppose so. I want to see your legs too, Callum.

            – I thought you might.

Callum opened his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor.

            – Can you get them off my feet?

Daniel thrust his peg leg forward and kneeled to remove the jeans from Callum’s prosthetic feet. Callum pushed himself up and stood upright, not attempting to move, for Daniel’s inspection. He moved around, looking at the pristine set of prosthetic legs from every angle. They were impressive and looked powerful, thanks to the long bulk of the glossy black sockets. Daniel touched the smooth surface of the left socket.

            – It feels so nice. Are they comfortable? Can you walk very far?

            – They feel fine. I’ve been wearing them for a few hours every day. I’ve been walking about a kilometre every day, I suppose. I take my walking sticks with me and walk around the block. But I take them off after Jared gets home and wear my stubbies for the rest of the evening.

            – You’re so lucky to be able to choose. I’d love to be able to.

            – No, Dan. Keep your other leg. You have the choice of wearing a normal leg or the peg or nothing at all. You have a very short stump which always looks better with an empty trouser leg. I like seeing an empty leg tucked into a man’s belt. And a smart pair of crutches.

 

As always, there was a sexual vibe in the background. Callum thought Dan’s appearance was deliberately horny and Daniel was turned on by Callum’s legs, especially the glossy black thighs. What might it be like for them to make love wearing their prosthetic legs? Would it even be possible? Daniel hoped that they would be able to experiment before long. For the time being, they sat opposite each other, drinking coffee, talking about their prosthetic experiences and enjoying each other’s company.

 

Jared arrived home at the usual time and found his friends in the kitchen. He was surprised and pleased to see Daniel and was impressed not only by the tall thin peg leg but also by the way Daniel exposed it for everyone to see. He was more extrovert than Jared had thought. Daniel recounted much the same description of the fitting process and described Bryant, his prosthetist, as if he were a drill sergeant. Soon his parents would return from work and he said goodbye and made his way home, attracting attention from everyone who saw the steel peg leg.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Daniel went back to school and had some catching up to do. He wore his foot instead of the stomper and his uniform with both trouser legs intact. At first glance, Daniel resembled any of his schoolmates until he walked and the odd silhouette of his trouser leg caused by the movement of his narrow pylons hinted that something was amiss. All his classmates had seen the prosthesis by the end of the week, as much of it as Daniel could display by pulling up his trouser leg. Daniel had always been popular and admired by both girls and other boys. Seeing him sporting his unique new leg with panache was in keeping with Daniel’s reputation. He maintained the admiration of his peers when anyone else might have been pitied for becoming disabled. Daniel did not behave as if he was disabled. That, he reasoned, would have to wait until he lost his hands and was wearing hooks. The compulsion was always present. The search for a credible and effective method was on-going.

 

Callum received a letter in the post. It was from his employer. Callum immediately suspected that it would contain the dismissal he had been expecting, a regretful explanation for the reasons why and good wishes for the future. He nipped it up from the floor, took it dejectedly to the living room and torn the envelope open. He was astonished at what he read. He was being asked to join a new Arctic weather research team involving close collaboration with Norwegian colleagues in Oslo and Longyearbyen. It would involve travel to Svalbard for several weeks and more frequent, shorter visits to Oslo. The team leaders believed that Callum’s disability would not play a significant role in undertaking the work and they hoped that Callum would respond positively to their invitation and join the research team immediately on his long-awaited return to work. Callum was so relieved, he felt close to orgasm.

 

He wanted to share his news with Jared and Dan immediately but controlled his enthusiasm. He typed an email to his department head, who had signed the letter, thanking him and the team for their trust and confidence in him and accepted the new role. He felt he could return at the start of the following week after he could be certain that his new prosthetic legs were optimally adjusted and would not give cause for further absence.

 

Jared congratulated him. He was genuinely happy for Callum. It was a huge weight off Jared’s mind too. He had been worried that Callum would not be able to continue in his chosen profession and, indeed, he would no longer be able to do his old job. And now he had something much more cerebral and interesting to look forward to. Callum pointed out that he would need to travel and might be away for weeks at a time.

            – We’ll worry about that when the time comes, Cal. The main thing is that you can carry on working at what you love.

            – We’re lucky, aren’t we? Perfect bodies, perfect jobs. It sounds trite but it’s true.

            – I think so too. Have you told Daniel yet?

            – No. I wanted to tell you first.

            – Let Dan know. I’m interested to know what he thinks about you being at the north pole for weeks at a time. You know he can hardly stay away from you. He’s going to miss you.

            – Alright. Shall I invite him round?

            – Ask him to come round on Friday evening. It’s a long trek for him on a school day.

 

Daniel arrived as soon as possible after school on Friday afternoon. Callum had spent the day getting his work clothes in order. He had made several changes to what he usually wore, taking into account the difficulty he had with dressing. Everything was organised. Polo-neck shirts and woollen pullovers easily accessible, smart office shoes and socks on his prosthetic feet, smart slacks with zippers running along the inside legs to allow access to his legs when necessary. Callum welcomed his young devotee admirer and opened two cans of beer.

            – What’s the occasion?

            – I have some news which calls for congratulation.

            – Oh? Go on, then! Don’t keep me in suspense.

            – I go back to work on Monday. They asked me to start working in a brand new research department they’ve set up and I’ll be travelling to the far north to study the weather systems there.

            – Scotland, you mean?

            – No! Much further north. Svalbard. Have you heard of it? Look it up on Maps!

Daniel fished his phone out and asked how to spell Svalbard.

            – Oh my god! That’s the ends of the earth! And you’ll be up there for research into their weather?

            – Well, not exactly their weather but the weather all over the Arctic and the jet streams and how they’re changing and causing problems for us further south.

            – The climate chaos thing.

            – Yup. The great thing is that they offered me the job knowing full well that I have four artificial limbs and they say that it makes no difference to my work.

            – That’s great. You’re so lucky, Cal. I wish I could be like you.

Jared arrived home.

            – Hi! I’m home!

            – In the kitchen.

            – Oh, hi Daniel. I didn’t know you’d be here.

            – I came straight from school. That’s alright, isn’t it?

            – Of course it is.

            – Callum was telling me about his new job at the north pole. And he can do it all without hands. I wish I didn’t have my hands and could still get a job!

            – Oh, Dan. Are you still feeling desperate about having hands?

            – Yes. I never stop thinking about how much I would prefer to have hooks like you have. It’s so unfair!

            – Fairness doesn’t come into it, Dan. Life isn’t fair. But I’ve been looking into a way for you to have your hands off and – Cal, shall I tell him?

            – Go ahead. Put him out of his misery.

            – There’s a surgeon who will amputate your hands for a total price of four thousand five hundred this summer but the amputations are not going to be exactly what you have in mind.

            – What? Really? That’s much less than I expected. I’ve already got seven thousand put aside for an amputation. What sort of amputations do you mean?

            – You’ve never seen my stumps, have you? Let me get these off and I’ll show you what I’m talking about.

Jared shrugged his harness over his head and allowed his sockets to slide down his stumps. He shook them onto the table.

            – I have a stump like this on the left which is what I think you want. And a stump like this on the right. You see, only the hand is missing, right at the wrist. This is what’s called a disarticulation where the amputation is done through a joint. There were no bones to saw through so after the hand was sliced through, the surgeon only needed to sew up the skin and that was that.

            – Can I hold it?

Jared lifted his arm for Daniel to inspect more closely. It was bony but he could imagine that two handless wrists might be perfect for what he wanted. He wanted to use artificial arms with hooks and his long stumps would still let him do that. Outwardly, no-one could tell his arms filled the sockets.

            – Four and a half for two stumps like this? In summer?

            – Yup. We need to confirm but as soon as you leave school, you can have the amputations and be ready to start uni in September with your own hooks. How would you like that?

            – It’s brilliant! Thank you, Jared! That would be fantastic. Imagine the three of us all wearing hooks! Oh, I can’t wait!

            – Hold your horses, mate. There’s still a few weeks before everything can be finalised. But I expect you to be a triple amputee by the end of July at the latest. It depends what date the surgeon gives you. OK?

            – Yes! Thank you so much. Callum, isn’t it great that we’ve both had good news today?

            – It is. I hope you’ll be as happy with the results as I am.

Daniel thought Callum meant his arm stumps.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Daniel sat his final exams with his classmates from the last week in May. The exams were spread over a period of three weeks, giving the students a day or two to gather their mental strength before another ordeal. Daniel’s last exam was on June the tenth after which there was little point in attending school, although the students had not yet been officially dismissed. He had informed Jared of his exam schedule and Jared had organised bilateral amputations with Samuel Adams for June the twenty-fourth. Funds had been reserved already. Daniel would reimburse Jared instead of paying the surgeon directly. Daniel himself knew nothing of the arrangements. Jared had not told him in order to keep his mind focussed on his exams rather than imminent amputations.

 

Callum returned to work, commuting by Underground each way. He rarely succeeded in finding a seat in the train. He balanced as near to the door as he dared stand, gripping a pole with both work hooks. The crush of his fellow passenger prevented him from toppling as the carriage swayed along the uneven track bed. He had been welcomed back by his former colleagues, delighted to see him walking on full‑length legs, and introduced to new ones who held him in awe. Surely such a critically injured team member must possess great knowledge and skill. Much of his time was spent designing experiments with new digital equipment which the Norwegians would undertake in Longyearbyen. Everyone was looking forward to October when the two research teams were due to meet for the first time for a four day tour in Oslo.

Daniel was frustrated at being alone at home after his last exam. Some of his friends still had others to sit and were reluctant to spend any time out on the town. Callum and Jared were both working. Daniel would simply have to grin and bear it. He could meet them at the weekend but he had already noticed a change in Callum. He was more serious, somehow. More adult – more like Jared. That was the trouble. Jared had always impressed him as being distant. Now Callum was receding too. Daniel desperately wanted to be accepted by both his amputee friends. He adored the idea of joining them as a third bilateral hook user even though there was such an age difference. Even Callum was nearly a decade older and Jared was in his thirties. He waited a whole day before he sent Callum a text asking if he might call round.

            – come on saturday morning. we’re going shopping and you can come with us.

It was better than nothing.

 

He turned up as early as possible, a little after nine. He was wearing a sleeveless T with a pair of shorts and trainers on both feet.

            – Good morning, young man. I’m pleased you could join us. You think we’re going grocery shopping, don’t you?

            – Yeah. Aren’t we?

            – No, we are not. We’re going shopping to get you some new clothes.

            – What? New clothes? Why?

            – Because you will have trouble dressing with hooks after you get your amputations on June twenty-four. The surgeon who did my disart stump is going to do your disarticulations starting at three o’clock on the twenty-fourth unless, of course, you have something else planned.

Daniel’s mouth had dropped open.

            – So we’re getting you some gear you can wear which has no buttons, no zips, which is loose so it doesn’t restrict your artificial limbs and looks preppy. You’re off to uni so you need to look the part.

            – But what am I going to tell my parents?

            – Daniel! You should have thought about that a long time ago. On the twenty-fourth, you will leave home for whatever reason, go somewhere and something will happen which doesn’t make the news but causes you to have two amputations and you end up with two arm stumps. I leave it to you to concoct the story. But your stumps will heal very quickly because they’re only disarts and my arm guy has already been warned to expect you. He has all the components ready and waiting. He only needs the measurements of your arm stumps. You’ll have your hooks within the week. So by mid-August, you’ll have your new hooks as well as your peg leg. Is there anything else you’d like to know?

            – I don’t know what to ask. Is it really going to happen?

            – Yup, unless you chicken out. I’ll lend you some money. You can settle with me later on. You’ll need some cash for your wardrobe and new hooks will cost you too.

 

Daniel linked arms with Callum as they both limped their way to the tube station. Jared followed slowly behind, enjoying the view of Daniel’s superbly slim prosthesis. He walked well, trusting in his prosthetic leg, but his short stump would always require a slight extra bounce from twisting his hip. It was a sexy motion which Jared admired from the rear. Jared was well aware that after losing his hands, Daniel would probably play an even greater part in both their lives. He may find himself unwelcome at home. It was quite possible that his parents would doubt whatever excuse Daniel concocted and would want him and his stumps out of their sight. They were intelligent people. It would take more than a teenager’s convoluted excuse to persuade them why their son suddenly had two such precise and identical stumps and a severely disabled future.

 

Jared went in front as they reached the escalator. Callum’s balance was easily thrown by unstable ground and stepping onto an escalator was a good example. Jared was ready to catch Callum if it looked like he might topple. He stepped off quickly and grabbed his friend at the bottom. Daniel managed well enough with one leg. They found the platform, checked the announcement board and walked to the end of the platform where the last carriage would stop. It would be near the exit at their destination. A group of children were making noise. They had balloons distributed obviously by some local shop. A distant rumble announced the approach of their train. One of the boys popped a balloon and made one of the girls scream. They all turned to look and Daniel’s knee gave way. He fell backwards onto the track and into the deep safety trough, his hands reaching for anything to catch onto as the nine thirty-seven to Arnos Grove snatched both arms and severed both forearms. The train’s brakes mercifully covered Daniel’s own screams of shock and pain. Jared came to his senses first and thumped the emergency button with an elbow. The driver had caught Daniel’s fall out of the corner of his eye and was now waiting for further instruction. He would have to reverse back into the tunnel before the victim could be rescued. He hoped whoever it was had avoided the rails.

 

Transport staff, security guards and transport police appeared as if from nowhere. The train driver merely announced ‘One under’. It was enough. Radios crackled and squawked as instructions flew around the underground network. The driver received notice that the power was cut and one of the security guards jumped down into the trough with a flashlight to see what had happened. Daniel was in shock, trying to hold his injured arms with non-existent hands.

            – Did anyone see what happened?

            – Officer, that’s our friend. He was with us. He must have fallen.

            – Ah. Do you know what happened, sir? Can you describe what happened?

            – There was a bang and one of the girls screamed like she was in pain so everyone turned to look and my friend fell down there and the train came.

One of the station staff began clearing passengers from the platform.

            – No more trains from this station. Go upstairs and catch the bus, love. Three sixty goes the same way. No more trains. Leave the station, please.

 

She returned to where two young men were talking to a police officer. They both had hooks instead of hands. She had never seen anything like it. Chris, the security guard, peered out from under the train and spoke quietly with one of the transport policemen. He nodded and spoke into his radio to summon an ambulance. Chris crawled back to Daniel. The driver was instructed to release his brakes. The following train would hitch onto his and drag it slowly backward into the previous station to release the passengers. Then the rear train’s passengers would have to disembark and both trains would travel empty back to the depôt with only the hapless driver of the first train as a passenger in his own cabin while his colleague took over. He was trembling, reliving the flash of movement as Daniel fell. He fell. Someone fell. He had no idea what had happened under his train. He would learn later and spontaneously vomit.

 

The policeman asked if Callum or Jared could provide the identity of the accident victim. They both had Daniel’s number on their phones. It was enough for the police to identitfy the individual’s address and a pair of mobile officers were shortly on the way to inform the sorry parents of the incident. Medics rushed into the station as the second transport policeman secured the track and ensured the victim and guard were safe. Callum and Jared were escorted away from the platform and into a control box where they were offered a cup of tea while they described what they remembered of the incident. To take their time. Everything is being done. Not your fault. He’s in good hands.

 

The interviewing policeman slowly realised that one of the men he was interviewing had four artificial limbs. The other one had two hooks and the bloke under the train had an artificial leg. It seemed surreal. The policeman knew the guy’s arms had been severed. It was all like a surreal nightmare. Had they all fallen under tube trains? What on earth was going on? He was as confused as the hapless train driver. After a few more questions, he was satisfied that he had as much information as he could reasonably expect to get and offered to drive the two amputees home. They accepted and two hours after leaving, they were back home in a world of pain.

 

 

– – – – – – -

 

Despite having wanted artificial arms, Daniel was left traumatised by finding himself completely helpless in a hospital bed. His forearms had been shortened to five centimetres of stump below his elbows. He would never have the handsome phallic arm stumps he fetishised. He would never be able to use his stumps in the way he had imagined. Instead, he would always be reliant on full‑length prosthetic arms with hooks or whatever devices he chose. The arms would be rigidly braced to compensate for the lack of power in his elbows. Daniel fell into a bout of depression before the bandages were even removed from his stumps.

 

His leg prosthesis had also been damaged in the accident and had been sent to Troy Bryant’s workshop for repair. The gruff no-nonsense ex-marine was visibly shaken at the news of Daniel’s accident. He had admired the young man’s determination and good humour, quite different from the mindset of most teenagers in a similar situation. Bryant not only made the necessary repairs to the prosthesis, he also made some alterations to the waist belt and suspension system to make the device easier to don for a man without hands.

 

Callum and Jared visited Daniel regularly. The youngster’s mood slowly improved by watching his friends gesticulating with their hooks as they spoke. Callum pointed out the advantages of the more restrictive set of arms Daniel would receive and how they would affect his balance. Jared was more direct and assured Daniel that there was little point in crying over spilt milk. His stumps were what they were. The main thing was to get artificial arms and a pair of hooks. It mattered little what the stumps looked like. It was not strictly true but it provided Daniel with another viewpoint to help disrupt his corrosive thoughts.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Unsurprisingly, Daniel did not spend his summer fretting over a place at university. His father took his son aside for a serious discussion of his situation and future opportunities. Daniel had been fitted with a pair of black carbon artificial arms both terminating in Hosmer Five hooks.

            – Have you thought about what you might study? You do intend to study further, I take it?

            – Do you think I should? Is there any point any longer?

            – Of course you should. Learning never comes amiss. The thing is, as you surely realise, is that your choices are restricted now. You’ll have to earn a living using your brain rather than your hands.

            – Hooks.

            – Exactly. So we need to find something which you’re prepared to study for a couple or three years which will give you a good foundation for employment. Just as you would have before the accident. I want you to weigh up a few alternatives. You could study economics and go into banking or insurance, for example. You could study psychology and find a place in Human Resources or Customer Management. That sort of thing. None of them are dependant on manual dexterity. But they are all dependant on one thing which you’ll have to work on and you don’t need to study for it.

            – What’s that?

            – A positive attitude. You’ve lost yourself down a dark place. It’s lonely down there, Daniel. When you lost your leg, you were still optimistic about it and looked forward to getting a new leg. But this time you’ve lost more than your arms. You’ve lost yourself. You need to find something you want to work towards again. Come on, Daniel. I know it can’t be easy but you’re in the best possible position right now to concentrate on finding the new Daniel. Chin up, son. You know things will get better after a while. They always do.

            – Alright. I’ll try.

            – I know you will. Your mum and I are always here for you.

            – I know, dad. Thanks.

 

It was a sobering talk. A dose of reality. His new arms were more restrictive than he had expected. They were the main reason for his despondency. The elbows were hinged to help keep his short stumps positioned correctly inside the sockets. He felt himself to be more disabled than Callum, who could move his hooks around quite freely. Callum’s stumps were much longer than what he had left. He had almost ignored his friends since he had arrived home. Callum and Jared were waiting for him to contact them, not wanting to interfere with the boy’s rehabilitation. Daniel considered that one of the positives his father had spoken about was maintaining friendships and being sociable. He tapped out a short text message to Callum and suggested he pay them a visit. Callum was relieved to hear from Daniel at last.

            – come round this evening after six if you like.

Daniel spent the afternoon readying himself. He no longer wanted to peacock with his cut-off jeans, showing his prosthetic leg publicly and advertising his amputee status. His hooks were always on display now, proclaiming his status whether he chose to or not. There was no point in demonstrating his prosthetic leg too. Daniel chose a pair of light olive green chinos with deep external pockets on both thighs. They were quite practical for a handless guy. He picked out a plain white T-shirt and tried a loose-knit beige top with long sleeves and a round neck. He decided against wearing socks. He could wear his brown boat shoes. If his pylon flashed at the ankle, so be it.

 

Daniel checked his appearance in the long hall mirror. He looked quite different. More adult. The chinos looked good. And the top was pretty good too. You could see through the loose knit. He could make out the blackness of his artificial arms and the white of his T-shirt. Prosthetic man! Daniel suddenly realised he had dressed himself without stressing over his hooks. He had been concentrating on what his clothes looked like. He was pleased with himself. Maybe his arms were more useful than he had been worried about. It was OK if he had to make a little extra effort to manoeuvre his hooks. He had succeeded in changing his clothes with no trouble. It was the first time Daniel felt his confidence returning. When he left the empty house at five o’clock for the long bus ride to Callum and Jared’s flat, he was in a positive mood and felt good about himself. He knew he looked good. His prosthetic arms gripped his biceps reassuringly and the harness weighed around his shoulders like the arm of a trusted friend.

 

            – Hello stranger. Come on in. We’ve been expecting you. Where have you been?

            – I got into a bit of a funk. I was feeling sorry for myself.

            – I can’t think why. I mean, apart from the fact that you could have been killed, I thought you’d be pretty pleased with the way things have turned out. As far as I can see, you are the triple amputee you always wanted to be. Smart new pair of hooks you have there. I’d like to see your arms in a minute, if that’s OK.

            – I was miserable because my stumps are so short. That’s why I have to have these braces on my arms.

Daniel hooked one of his sleeves up to show the two steel strips riveted to his forearm sockets.

            – Wow! That looks snazzy! So what’s wrong with that?

            – I can’t rotate my arms like you can.

            – No. Well, I’ll tell you a secret. I’m going to have another set of arms made with exactly the same kind of bracing because I think the arms look more macho and I want to experience the extra restriction. I like having hooks but I don’t always feel disabled. That’s what I want to feel. Restricted by the movements of my prosthetic arms. I want my entire arms to feel prosthetic. My stumps are so long that really it’s only my hooks that are any different now compared with how I was before.

            – Really? You’re getting a pair like these?

            – I hope so.

Jared spoke up.

            – And if Cal seems to get on with his, I’m getting a pair too. There’s no way I’m going to let you two have tight braced arms without getting my own.

            – Wow! I didn’t know anyone would want to have arms like these.

            – So now you know. How have you been getting on with them? Can you eat and drink OK?

            – It’s been a bit slow. I can feed myself OK if I just use the hooks and don’t bother with a knife and fork. And it was good today when I changed to come out. I just sort of did it without thinking about how to operate my arms and hooks. I was really surprised when I realised.

            – You’re ahead of time, Dan. You’ve only had those for a few days. It took us months before we could use our hooks without thinking about every little move.

            – Really?

            – Yup. So that proves you’re a natural. A man destined to use hooks on his braced sockets to function in life as a successful amputee, envied by all who see him.

            – Steady on, Cal. No need to exaggerate. It’s only natural, Daniel. You’ll gradually get used to doing certain actions and won’t need to think about what you’re doing. Muscle memory, I think they call it. I have to admit, you look very smart today. The hooks are a surprise when you notice them but you look good.

Daniel was unused to being reassured in this manner. There was no reason for Callum and Jared to attempt to raise his spirits. They had not seen him when he was feeling blue. He broke into a smile.

            – It would be fun if we could all go out again somewhere.

            – Not on the Tube, though.

            – No, maybe not.

            – You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you, Dan? Shall we go to a pub, sit in the beer garden or outside somewhere?

            – Yes, I’m old enough now. Shall we?

            – It would be more fun than sitting inside here. Give us a few minutes.

Cal and Jared went to their bedroom and helped each other change into clean shirts and clean jeans. Ten minutes later they reappeared, both dressed as smartly as Daniel, both wearing long‑sleeved shirts which covered their arms and allowed only their hooks to be visible.

Jared checked he had his wallet and keys and ushered his friends out of the apartment.

 

Jared knew of an old pub, derided by many for its staid untrendy atmosphere. It was set back from the main road on a corner with a bit of a garden and a few chairs off to one side. He thought it might be adequate for their current purposes. It was a warm August evening and the sun would be up for another couple of hours. The trio walked at Callum’s slow pace onto the high street and across to where the Green Hunter stood in its pseudo-Tudor glory. The garden was in shade but the air was still warm. Callum and Daniel sat at a round table. Jared asked what they wanted to drink and went inside to order and ask if someone could help bring their drinks out. The young bartender was about to state that there was no waiter service when Jared lifted both hooks onto the counter.

            – I’ll help you carry them.

            – Thanks mate. That’s good of you.

Jared lifted a pint with his left hook and went back, followed by the barman with another and a G&T for Callum. The youngster was clearly flustered by seeing that the other two customers were also disabled. Both of them had hooks instead of hands. The image burned into his brain. He hardly dared look. Even seeing Jared’s hooks resting on the counter had initiated his erotic arousal. His penis was fully erect and straining against the restraint of his jockeys. Luckily he was wearing his apron. He looked at the young faces and wordlessly returned to the bar. He tried to think of a suitable time before he went out again to see if they wanted a refill. He wanted to see more of the men. Especially the youngest one wearing the loose-knit top. You could see his black arms right up to his shoulders. Imagine if they could somehow be together. What would it be like to have a friend with arm stumps? He would go mad!

 

Neither Jared nor Callum offered any help to Daniel. The beers were in tall straight glasses. Jared demonstrated by placing a hook halfway down the glass and brought it steadily toward his face. He leaned forward slightly to meet the rim of the glass and tilted back to allow the beer to flow. Daniel watched him and attempted the same.

            – Put your hook a little lower, Dan. Imagine where the centre of balance is.

            – Yeah, I see.

It was more difficult for Daniel to close his right hook around the glass. He needed to raise his arm from the shoulder but with a little experimentation, the hook fitted around the glass and he lifted it. After a couple of mouthfuls, he carefully returned the glass to the table from which it was easy to lift again.

            – Well done, Dan. Does it taste alright? Do you prefer ale to lager?

            – I don’t really know the difference. I haven’t drunk much before. Actually, this is the first time I’ve tasted that.

            – Thought as much. This tastes more of the hops they flavour the beer with. Lager tastes – what would you say? – less beery, if that makes any sense. Did you like it?

            – It was alright.

            – You managed your glass just right. I don’t know why you don’t like those arms.

            – I could feel the weight of the glass around my elbows. I think it was good to have the braces there to help.

            – Well, there you are! That’s what we have to deal with ourselves, me and Callum. Not having the additional support. You should be glad to have it. Anyway, cheers.

They carefully picked their drinks up again and clinked their glasses. They sat in the garden for another hour, served by the enthusiastic and friendly young bartender until they went inside to join the regulars for one more. No-one paid them any attention. Perhaps they were too drunk to notice anything amiss. Or if they noticed, they did not care. But the bartender had noticed and he cared very much. He was infatuated with the smart young guy in the chinos with the hooks and would do anything to see him again.

 

Not wanting to be drunk on a midweek evening, Callum and Jared made the next drink their last. Callum and Daniel made a trip to the men’s room. Callum helped Dan with his flies. Pulling the zip down was difficult with unpractised hooks. Daniel was happy to have come out in public for the first time since losing his hands. People were not overly intrusive. They obviously noticed his hooks but no-one seemed to stare. A few minutes before they emptied their glasses, the young bartender brought them each a well-designed advertising flyer for the Green Hunter. On the copy he gave to Daniel, he had written his phone number and a brief plea – Please call me! Stuart

 

– – – – – – -

 

Callum spent a fortnight in Longyearbyen before the winter set in. He wore his long legs and took a pair of stubbie foot attachments which he could exchange for the lower sections of the legs. His cylindrical stubbies stood forlorn in his bedroom. Jared was comfortable with Callum’s brief absence. They were in frequent contact by video. Callum pointed his phone around the landscape outside so Jared could see its rugged nature. His colleagues were all impressed with the prowess of the severely disabled man but did not make overt efforts to compensate for his shortcomings. Callum managed his project and duties perfectly well. His own self-respect rose during his visit.

 

Jared’s project on reorganising the town centre’s traffic lurched ahead suddenly with a grant from local government. Within weeks, the roads were closed to vehicular traffic except deliveries. Billboards shielding the construction work explained to passers-by how their town centre would look and function after the changes. There were complaints about the inconvenience but the long term results would be worth it. Jared’s name was closely associated with the project. A success would boost his reputation and possibly bring in other lucrative work.

 

Daniel found his joie de vivre with the help of bartender Stuart. Daniel noticed Stuart’s message as he was about to throw the flyer away after he found it in his trouser pocket a couple of days later. He remembered the guy and called. Stuart simply stated that he would like to meet Daniel for a chat because he looked like the sort of man he might get along with. Daniel was bored and reasoned that there was nothing to lose. They spent an evening together, visiting a quiet bar and a hamburger joint afterwards. Stuart was astounded to discover that his hero’s right leg was also a prosthesis. By the end of the first week, they were firm friends learning to trust each other and by the end of the month, they were lovers. The relationship with Stuart improved Daniel’s self‑assurance so much that he applied to attend a course in digital economics at the local vocational college. The coursework could be done entirely digitally. Daniel became gradually more dextrous with his hooks, learning to use his upper body to help control them. Stuart continually encouraged him to try new things and Daniel’s confidence in himself reached that of Callum and Jared.

 

The following summer, Stuart had access to his brother’s new electric car and suggested a run down to the coast for the day. Daniel mentioned it to Callum, who told Dan about how he and Jared had biked to the coast when Callum still had limbs. Daniel suggested all four make a return trip to the same area. Stuart was fully behind the suggestion. Jared turned up wearing his prosthetic arms, Callum wore his first cylindrical stubbies and his right hook and Daniel sat in the front wearing his artificial leg but no arms. Stuart insisted that he would act as Daniel’s arms for the day. It was an arrangement they had devised during the preceding months as their friendship evolved and Stuart acquainted himself with the demands ordinary living placed on his amputee friend.

 

Stuart drove as far as the first pub which Jared and Callum had visited and parked his car. The amputees extricated themselves and strolled slowly, two by two, along the seafront. It was windless, sunlight glinted on gentle waves, and the two leg amputees leaned against their more able-bodied lovers. They rested frequently, sitting on benches to admire the view and to be viewed themselves by other holiday-makers. Callum lifted his hook and wished a Good afternoon to people who stared a little too hard. It was fun embarrassing over-inquisitive people. They could see the lighthouse in the distance, changeless since the last visit. Jared placed a hook around Callum’s waist remembering his pillion ride and how they used to be.

 

 

THE SEARCH