Will & chas
Two headstrong young men determine to outdo the other in the disability category. Only the practicalities of life hold them back—until they retire.
Semi-fiction by strzeka (05/23)
Dedicated to Wolfgang
Wolfgang first met Dieter on the night of the ninth of November, nineteen eighty-nine. Wolfgang was in Berlin to demonstrate a clever device made by his company which could open and close windows by simply pressing a button. The international fair, Berlin Messe 89, was in town and Wolfgang, from the south of Germany, spent as much time as he could after the fair closed each evening walking around the centre, all the way down Kurfürstendamm and through the park to where the gates prevented access to Quadriga. It was lit up by spotlights from two angles and looked magnificent. Unter den Linden lay on the other side, visible through chinks in the fortifications keeping the people apart.
Wolfgang continued his leisurely walk, stopping for a beer now and then, and unintentionally staying close to the Wall. As he came out of one Kniepe, he heard some kind of commotion coming from the direction of the Wall. It was obviously coming from the other side. What on earth were they doing? They were hardly preparing for an attack. That would be ridiculous. Wolfgang stood still, trying to make out the words of the chanting.
It is unnecessary to recount the events of that evening. The images are world famous, the most significant symbols of how the East opened up and changed the world overnight.
Wolfgang was feeling in a good mood after several beers and made his way towards the Wall. There were people climbing on top of it. It was unbelievable. People were dropping down into the arms of people on this side. Wolfgang was fascinated and amazed. He went much closer and pushed his way through the growing crowd. Suddenly he was being called to by people on top of the Wall.
– Catch this guy! He’s coming over!
Wolfgang looked up and saw a man his age scrabbling for balance and being heaved by people on the other side. Before he knew it, he was holding a grinning man, who threw his arms around him in a more than brotherly hug.
– Hi! I’m Dieter.
– I’m Wolfgang. Nice to meet you.
– Nice to meet you too. I didn’t think I would see you here.
– Haha! Come on. I’ll buy you a beer.
They put their arms around each others’ shoulders like the best of friends and Wolfgang guided Dieter to the pub he had left half an hour before. Wolfgang could feel Dieter limping somehow. He must have twisted his knee or something climbing over the Wall. Wolfgang bought a couple of beers and raised his glass.
– Welcome! What the actual fuck is going on?
– The SED announced that from eleven o’clock, the border is open.
Wolfgang stared at Dieter as if he had said the Russians had proved the moon was made of cheese.
– And so a few of us thought it might be fun to find out if it was true.
– And it is. It’s wonderful.
– Wonderful! This is good beer, by the way. Cheers!
– Cheers! Did you hurt your leg climbing over? I noticed you were limping.
– Ha! No, I didn’t hurt it tonight. It is a prosthesis. A wooden leg.
Wolfgang was astounded. His most insistent desire in life was to lose a leg and replace it with a prosthetic limb. He had always wanted to be one-legged. He fought with his emotions and tried to remain calm.
– Oh really? That’s interesting.
– Yeah! I got it when I was a kid. I got run over by a tram, you see. Went right across my knee. So the doctor cut it off and gave me a wooden leg.
– How old were you?
– Eight.
– Oh! So you’ve had a wooden leg all through when you were a teenager and everything.
– What is a teenager?
– Don’t you say that in the East?
– No.
– It just means a person who is between thirteen and nineteen. The teen years. A teenager.
– Oh, I see. That’s clever. Yes, of course I had my wooden leg all those years.
– That’s wonderful. Do you want another beer?
– No thank you. It’s very kind but I should go back soon.
– Why? Why do you want to go back?
– They said the border is open. We came and now we must go. We have nowhere to sleep tonight. We have to go home, of course.
– You can sleep with me. Haha! I mean you can come back and sleep in my room.
– I like the first version. I would like to sleep with you, Wolfgang. You have been very kind. It’s good. I will come to your room.
They drank another beer together, telling each other about where they lived, making fun of each other’s accents, being surprised by words the other did not know. Just before the pub closed at half past midnight, the two young men left, supporting each other, back to Wolfgang’s hotel room and its inviting double bed. There was no time for niceties like brushing teeth. They both stood side by side peeing into the toilet bowl, stripped their clothes and Dieter sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthesis. Wolfgang knelt in front of him, eyeing Dieter’s penis and balls and then the fake leg. It looked odd. It was made of some kind of plastic, a greyish pink, quite unlike the prostheses he had seen before. The socket came to a rounded end and a conical lower leg was attached by interleaved flanges. Dieter took hold of the socket and pushed. It moved slowly down his stump until it suddenly broke free. Dieter dropped it on the floor and peeled a thick rubber ring off his stump. The tip of the stump was uneven but otherwise well-healed. It was just over half as long as his other thigh. Wolfgang wanted to touch and play with it, feel its weight and bulk. He would have to wait.
– All set and ready. Which side do you want?
– You choose. It’s your bed.
– Come on, then. Climb in. I’m glad you’re here, Dieter.
They were both too shagged to fuck. It had been a long night. History was in the making. During the night, Wolfgang and Dieter moved closer together into each other’s warmth and Wolfgang woke with Dieter’s head resting on his upper arm. He needed to pee and slowly extricated his arm, leaving the sleeping Dieter undisturbed. It was only six o’clock, six ten. Not much point going back to bed. Wolfgang checked that Dieter was still asleep and turned his attention to the artificial leg on the floor. What would it be like to use such a thing? To have his own stump. Wolfgang touched the cool plastic, felt the rigid socket. The whole thing was fantastic. Dieter walked very well with it. No-one would guess he was an amputee. Wolfgang’s mind imagined himself wearing a pair of artificial legs, walking so well that no-one would guess. It would be incredible. He would feel like a hero.
– – – – – – -
Dieter returned home. The soldier at the border post nodded his head and smiled at him. Dieter had never seen a soldier smile before. Wolfgang spent another day in Berlin demonstrating the remarkable window device before flying back to Munich. They kept in touch. Dieter wanted to finish his pharmaceutical course which would prepare him to be a biochemist. Wolfgang toured the country, demonstrating the latest innovations and gathering new orders.
The country unified. It was not to everyone’s taste. A topical joke made the rounds. “‘We are one people!’ ‘So are we!’” Wolfgang asked Dieter, who had undertaken his last examination and was eagerly waiting for the result, if he might prefer to come to Munich. They could find a flat together, be together. Wolfgang loved Dieter from the moment he fell into his arms. Such a good-looking man. Such a handsome face with the terrible haircut. And an artificial leg. Wolfgang longed to see the stump again and the man who bore it.
Dieter took advantage of the opportunity to buy his apartment. It was in the centre of town, next to Mitte, and it was in one of the old buildings which had been repaired. He had a living room, a bedroom, a little kitchen. On the landing there was a toilet for four apartments and if you wanted a shower, you could go on the tram to the swimming pool. His parents lent him the money and shortly Dieter owned property in the centre of Berlin. And Wolfgang was begging him to go to Munich to join him. In the chaos of the work situation, with western companies buying and closing well‑known national brands, Dieter was tempted and finally decided to make the jump. He arrived by train after an exhausting journey, met by Wolfgang. They hugged and laughed and Dieter guided his friend into the U-bahn and then to his sleek, Bauhaus apartment in the suburbs.
Wolfgang had advanced in his job. He was now in charge of sales and his income reflected his new status. He owned a Volkswagen, necessary for his job and he had employed an interior designer when he furnished his new apartment. It was white and orange and grey and it looked like the future. There was a large bedroom with a large bed and a large closet, ample for two men. Dieter left his luggage in the hallway, took off his coat and fell on Wolfgang. They curled into each other, Wolfgang always bearing in mind the artificial leg, hugging and kissing each other.
– It’s been so long. You look fantastic!
It was true. In the months since they last met, Dieter had eaten better, bought better clothes and had not returned to his usual barber. He had grown a fashionable amount of stubble and his gelled hair suited him.
The two men settled into a comfortable routine. They gradually opened up to each other about their hopes for the future, and Wolfgang tentatively admitted that Dieter’s amputation was one of his greatest advantages. He revealed that he too would enjoy life as an amputee, first with a thigh stump like Dieter’s and later with two. He wanted to use peg legs with crutches, to feel the sensation of walking on stumps, living life balancing on peg legs. Dieter was surprised but, as an amputee, he saw no great disadvantage in becoming legless. The only problem was finding a surgeon who would amputate a healthy leg or two.
– I know the surgeon who did my amputation. I have met him several times when I go to collect a new artificial leg. I believe he is in a difficult situation after reunion because his qualifications are no longer recognised. He might do your amputations if you pay him a few marks. What do you think? Shall I ask him?
– Are you serious? Yes! Would you still love me if I became legless?
– Of course! I could teach you how to walk on artificial legs. I would love to see you with two stumps, Wolfgang. Let me organise it for you.
Dieter contacted his old prosthetician in the east and asked if his surgeon was still working. He needed the man’s contact address. It shortly arrived and Dieter wrote a short explanation that his companion required the amputation of one, possibly both, legs and requested an estimation of the cost. The sum was too expensive, if not exorbitant.
– I can’t pay that much, Dieter. We’ll have to think of something else.
– Why don’t you buy a pair of leg braces? I’m sure you’d like having both legs rigid in leather and steel. That’s the way they make them. The steel struts fit into special fittings in your shoes. You could pretend that you’re walking on prothetic legs.
– Do you know, that sounds like a good idea. Let’s do that!
Wolfgang travelled to the other side of the country to be fitted with a pair of knee-ankle-foot orthoses, commonly known as kafos. His legs were encased in leather straps attached to steel struts which held his legs rigid. He used crutches to walk, usually swinging both useless legs forward. Dieter limped along beside him.
– I feel like a new man. I love the way it feels. I think I need a completely new identity. Call me William from now on!
– Why William?
– It sounds like the kind of name a man who walks on useless legs would have. William. So vulnerable and disabled. You could call me Will for short.
– OK, Will, I will.
Wolfgang became Will from then on. Will was a man on crutches who had severe problems with his legs. He converted his car for use by a legless driver and continued to represent his company, which was branching out into electronics. At the exhibitions where Will demonstrated the latest products, he balanced on his rigid legs without crutches, which were always hidden just out of sight behind the diorama. In those years, he could still walk using kafos.
Will’s enthusiasm for amputation transferred to Dieter. Dieter had been one-legged since he was a boy but he had always been fascinated by the hooks which arm amputees used. He wondered how much his surgeon would charge for a simple mid-forearm amputation. Surely it could not cost as much as a leg. Without Will’s knowledge, Dieter contacted his surgeon again and asked the price for a below elbow amputation. When the reply arrived, Dieter thought that the surgeon must have reduced his prices. It was almost cheap. Without discussing the matter, Dieter decided to go the whole hog and have both hands amputated and to transform himself into a double hook user. Will would be enamoured to find his lover with a total of three stumps. Dieter arranged for a pair of artificial arms with hooks to be made at the facility just outside Berlin. They had access to western equipment and Dieter was especially keen to use American steel hooks, the standard ones known as Number Fives. It would be a few weeks between his amputations and getting his hooks but it would all be worth it. Will was not overly pleased when Dieter said he had to go back to the east for a couple of weeks but satisfied himself that Dieter knew what he was doing and knuckled down to the fact that they were still independent men merely sharing lives.
It was nearly a month before Dieter returned. Will was alerted to his arrival by someone kicking the door. He opened it and saw his lover, handsome in a new leather jacket with a bag slung over his shoulder. His sleeves hung empty.
– May I come in?
Will lifted himself on his crutches and swung himself around to make room for Dieter to enter. He looked back at his man, shucking his jacket in the hallway, revealing his forearm stumps. Will was shocked.
– You did both!
– Yeah. I knew I would sooner or later be using two hooks so I thought I would have them both done at the same time. Now there’s only one journey left.
– What journey is that?
– The journey to have my other leg off. You don’t want me to have a leg, do you Will? I know you well enough by now.
– Well, no. I mean, it’s OK if you have a leg. But how are you going to manage without hands?
– You will help me with everything I can’t do. In a couple of months, I will have my new hooks and you can stop. Will you help me, Will?
– Of course. You look beautiful.
Will crutched across to Dieter and leant on his crutches. He took Dieter’s stumps into his hands and held them gently.
– They’re beautiful. Thank you.
Dieter made the trip back to his prosthetist to collect his arms. The components were now American but the sockets were, as he had expected, the same grey-pink as his artificial leg. It was not a complete disappointment. Perhaps it was better that his artificial limbs matched, as one series. He spent several hours undergoing tests and adjustments, followed by a quick tutorial where he tested the function of his hooks. He was completely satisfied, elated in fact, and left feeling like a new man. He spent the night in a small hotel in east Berlin before embarking on the long journey back to Munich. Looking at his new hooks helped him while away the long hours. The sockets were tight, so rigid. He had no wrists but his hooks felt powerful.
– Now you are no longer the old Dieter, you should choose a new name for yourself.
– Like you are William and not Wolfgang, you mean? Very well. I shall be Charles. Charles with the hooks and wooden leg.
– Charles is wonderful. I shall call you Chas. Because there is not much Charles left.
– Haha! Chas and Will. It’s very apt.
– – – – – – -
Everyone was gathered in the town square to watch the fireworks. They would be the biggest display ever. It was the start of a new millennium and everyone was excited. Chas and Will enjoyed a couple of beers outside, Will standing on rigid legs, Chas carefully manipulating his glass of beer with his hooks. The display began just before midnight. Everyone craned their necks to watch, gasping in surprise at each explosion, laughing, pointing. People were having fun together. It felt good. The highlight came exactly at midnight when a salvo of rockets was sent high into the sky and exploded with the numbers two zero zero zero. The crowd broke into applause and wished their neighbours a Happy New Year. Chas and Will enjoyed one last beer and made their way home through the smoky streets.
Will’s chronic problem manifested itself on January the first. His neck was really too stiff and it was painful to move. Obviously he had sprained it the previous evening, staring up into the sky. It was an unnatural position and he had probably pulled a vertebra. It was uncomfortable but Will thought no more of it. Chas spent a lazy day without his hooks. It was good to let his arm stumps feel the air and to recover from the stresses and pressures involved in operating his hooks.
Unfortunately the pain in Will’s neck worsened. After ten days, he was becoming concerned. It interfered with his work. He was unable to concentrate. He spoke of the problem with his boss.
– Take a few days off and visit a doctor. I’m sure he would be able to help, Wolfgang. I certainly hope so. We need you here. We rely on you, you know that.
– You are very kind to say so. OK, I shall make an appointment with the doctor.
Will debated whether to wear his kafos on his visit to the doctor. It was true that he had not had a medical need for them but several year’s use had caused his leg muscles to atrophy to some degree and he was no longer safe on his legs without additional support. He had a large selection of walking sticks he liked to use. Chas enjoyed seeing him with a stick. He thought it made Will look distinguished, a true Bavarian gentleman.
Will entered the clinic on kafos and crutches. The doctor paid no attention to his apparent disability, nor was there any reason why he should. The patient was complaining of neck pain. The doctor made an initial examination and was perturbed. He took a few x-ray photos and Will waited for a couple of hours until they were developed. The doctor inspected them closely with a colleague and they came to the unfortunate conclusion that Will had dislocated a vertebra which was pressing against a nerve. It was unlikely that surgical intervention would help, indeed, it might even make matters worse. However, there was one remedy which was certain to alleviate the pain. A minerva brace could be made to enclose Will’s body with a steel and leather cup to envelope his chin and neck, holding his head permanently in an upright position.
Will was shocked that his injury was so serious but shortly realised that he would be a very rigid man. Legs in braces, body and neck in another brace. He knew what minerva braces looked like. If he wanted to disguise it, he could grow a big bushy beard. He discussed his options with the doctor, who recommended using a brace for a few months, during which time the problem may resolve itself. He would make preparations and requested Will to make an appointment with his orthopaedic specialist colleague a few days hence. Will engaged his knee locks, pushed himself erect and shook the doctor’s hand. Chas was intrigued to hear about the minerva and said that Will would be even more erotic with motionless legs and a motionless head. He would be able to stare ahead, nothing more. If he wanted to look to the side, he would have to use his crutches to lift his rigid legs to point in that direction. To prove his point, he pulled at the front of his trousers with his hooks, revealing the outline of his fully erect penis. It was all the encouragement that Will needed. A minerva was what he would have. An appointment was made for the following week and before the end of the month, Will left the clinic on crutches with his head supported by mirror steel bracing around his neck and up the back of his head. His chin rested on a padded cushion of black leather. The brace continued down, attaching to an encompassing rigid corset. The minerva prevented Will from engaging and disengaging his kafos’ drop locks so he was forced to remain in an upright position, whether he wanted to or not. It was Will’s first taste of genuine disability. He was disabled now, for real. The minerva was not easily removable. It was bolted onto his body. It could be removed only at the clinic, every few weeks. He was given a timetable of appointments when a nurse would remove the brace, wash Will’s torso and reattach the brace. It was a little inconvenient but the rigidity and sensation of additional disability were worth it.
Chas watched Will’s efforts to move, the difficulty he often had using his crutches without being to see directly where he was placing the crutch tips. They both enjoyed Will’s efforts. Will had decided to grow a beard and moustache, which seemed a sensible alternative. He was unable to shave properly with the minerva. Chas was inspired to grow a beard too. There were more men on the street at that time wearing impressive big beards. They looked very handsome. Chas and Will would join them and be fashionable invalids.
Having gained the bodies they had wanted, Chas the triple amputee and Will the rigid leather and steel man, they settled into living together, helping each other with the many things the other found difficult or impossible, enjoying each other’s transformed masculinity. They had both had to make adjustments at work. Chas was able to continue almost normally in his profession, working on viral research for an international pharmaceutical company outside Munich. He drove himself each day in a converted Volkswagen, which was operable using only his hooks. Will was too severely disabled to drive and so relied on public transport where he could stand. He had long ago transferred to the sales department, planning campaigns and exhibitions, working out routes for representatives. He was as enthusiastic and interested in his work as he had always been and his employer was grateful to the disabled man with such admirable determination.
But there comes a time in every enthusiast’s life when he begins to pine for more. More disability, more challenges, a different lifestyle. So it was for Will and Chas. Will was so adept at swinging his rigid legs, which were now completely atrophied and useless, and viewing the world head-on that he wished for something more. He could still sit if Chas or someone was nearby to release the drop locks on his leg braces and found it extremely difficult to rise again. How would it be if he was unable to sit? He would be rigid from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. An hkafo brace would solve that problem. It would be like his kafos extended up past his hips and joined onto his minerva corset. He would still be able to ‘walk’ on crutches. Perhaps he could also disable his arms somehow to make the crutches more of a challenge. But it would be dishonourable to disable himself still further. It would endanger his career and he owed his employer at least another ten years of loyal service for their understanding and assistance over the years. He would have to wait, but in his mind, he planned his future body and the day when he was completely unable to stand without outside help. Then he would crutch along with his disabled arms somehow and Chas would love him all the more. Chas was quite certain what he needed but was held back for exactly the same reasons. He was sure he would lose his remaining limb to become legless but it would feel dishonest to do so at the present time. He could wait until he was eligible to retire in seven years and then he would reform his body with entirely new prosthetic limbs.
Chas learned that the Polish couple who had rented his apartment in Mitte were about to move out. The building had been renovated and each now had a water closet and shower. But without a personal need for accommodation in Berlin after all these years, and with the enormous prices for property in the centre of a revitalised Berlin, Chas arranged for the property to be sold. After fees to agents and taxes, he still had an enormous profit. A sum which, with luck, would suffice to transform his and his lover’s bodies into the shape they would live with for the rest of their prosthetic lives. Chas still had his contacts in the east, the history and the papers, so any new requests for additional surgery ought not pose a problem. Solidarity between previous East Germans was still strong, regardless of how distant they had travelled after reunion. Chas was certain he would get his fourth amputation with no quibbling and had begun to ferment another idea which was so outrageous that he had not mentioned it even to Will. Time would tell.
The familiarity with hooks imbued Will with a desire to experience the same as Chas. Will loved to watch Chas doing things, twisting his body from side to side to angle the hooks to an appropriate angle and repeatedly passing objects from hook to hook, imperceptibly altering their angle so he could use them as he wished. With only two years left until his retirement, Will brought up the matter. Chas was not surprised. He knew very well how much Will enjoyed seeing his artificial arms, almost as much as he enjoyed wearing them on his stumps.
– Wait a while. I have an idea which you might like. I have been in touch with my surgeon, who is waiting for me.
– My God! Is he still working?
– Unfortunately, he has to. Pensions in the east are not the same as here. You know that. There are enough discussions about it.
It was true. The Easterners were still behind their western neighbours, even twenty-five years after the two halves of the country came together. In all honesty, the west had almost impoverished itself in supporting the east, which had proved to be much less economically advanced than even western intelligence had understood at unification. Chas’s surgeon was seventy-one years old, still working in his clinic, and welcoming of the opportunity to earn another few euros by turning Chas into a DAK, a double above knee amputee. Chas had also discussed his other idea with him. The surgeon did not entertain the idea, saying simply that the procedure had not been performed in Germany after peace seventy years ago. But he knew of a Slovak surgeon who specialised in the modification Chas requested, and assured him that his stumps were supremely well suited to the operation. All could be arranged as soon as Chas was ready.
Will was becoming frustrated. His kafos were his only hope of being mobile and yet they were not functioning as he wanted. He thought about his situation over a period of weeks and announced that it was time for him to adopt a combined hkafo and minerva. It would require Chas to attend to his rigid man even more. Chas did not want to reveal his own plans but could easily imagine that a legless man with only thigh stumps would not be able to lift Will to his braced feet. But there was a period of time before Chas’s revisions were available when he could assist his friend, and he encouraged Will to have the hkafo-minerva made. Will visited his orthopaedic specialist several times, first explaining what he needed and later fitting and testing the complicated steel shell inside which his frail, skeletal body could remain operative. His legs were scrawny but his upper body was still muscular due to walking with crutches for more than twenty years. The specialist mentioned a procedure which would ease Will’s future life if only he would concede that his life would be changed forever. It was unlikely to bring any greater disability compared with his current situation. Will promised to think about it and heaved himself home, imagining himself doing so after his alterations. What would Chas think?
Chas reached retirement age first. It was actually premature. He had taken advantage of a new scheme where old workers could retire one year early on the condition that their pensions would be ten per cent smaller. Chas had almost a million in the bank and seized the chance. Once again, he furtively contacted his eastern experts and was advised that the best route would be via Bratislava to Berlin. The first procedure would require more time to recover from and Chas would be in a better position if he could recover from his fourth amputation while his other limbs healed. Chas agreed and persuaded Will that he needed to absent himself for five or six weeks. Will would have to return to kafos in the meantime. He would be alone, not for the first time. He was unhappy. It was not easy for a man in his sixties to suddenly revert to a situation as if he was fifty. Chas placed his hooks around Will’s neck to reassure him. His hooks clattered against the steel surrounding the back of Will’s head. Will trembled with desire inside his constraints, feeling his atrophied penis moving itself inside the mess of his pubic hair. He could sense his catheter tube moving against his leg.
Chas bid a fond farewell to his colleagues, hugging and kissing them. They had bought him a five hundred euro gift token for the town’s best department store so he could get whatever he needed. It was difficult to buy things for a man with two artificial arms and a wooden leg. Chas thanked them profusely and went home to celebrate with his crippled companion. It was the last time they would be able to celebrate in the same way, using their own hooks and hands to raise toasts to each other and to the future.
Chas spent several uneventful weeks at home while Will was at work. He was frustrated at not being able to leave his prosthetic leg off. It had served him well and he was grateful to the technicians who had enabled him to walk like other men, without crutches, unlike Will who seemed to love lifting his useless legs around. He had done so for twenty years, twenty-five. Now it was time for something better, something more exciting and more challenging. The same applied to his hooks. They had been very serviceable and he had enjoyed every minute of being a bilateral arm amputee. But now it was time for a change. Something new. Something exciting. Something shocking. He hoped Will would approve. If not, there was always the opportunity to walk on prosthetic legs again, and to use his artificial arms.
Chas bid Will goodbye and caught a fast train to Dresden, where he changed to a Prague train. He would stay overnight in Prague before continuing to Bratislava. He walked around the centre of town, astonished by the Old Town and its beauty, dropping in to various pivovars for a litre of lager. He opened his hooks and picked up the heavy glasses between them and carefully drank. Bavarian beer was good but it was true—this was probably the best beer in the world. Other drinkers watched the man with the enormously long greying beard and the shiny steel hooks.
His new Slovak surgeon appraised his arm stumps. They were both perfect for the Krukenberg procedure and Chas was shortly sedated and wheeled into the operating theatre. The surgeon slit his forearms, each half containing one of the two forearm bones. He rearranged the muscles and flesh around each bone, producing two prongs from the elbow down. When healed, Chas would be able to move his prongs to nip at objects to pick them up. He would also regain his sense of touch. The new pincers were only about half as long as his original forearms but when healed, they would be versatile tools, far superior to the steel hooks he had relied on for a quarter of a century.
Chas was fairly helpless while his bandaged Krukenbergs healed. The dressings were changed often to maintain the desired shape of each prong. After ten days, Chas was shown a series of exercises to train his new pincers. It was a totally unnatural method of using one’s arms but the musculature had been cleverly repositioned to enable the pincers to open, close and grip. Over time, the strength of the grip would increase as the muscles strengthened. After twenty days, Chas was allowed to depart for Berlin, where he would meet his old surgeon and lose his leg.
It was a simple amputation on a healthy man. The new stump matched the old one in length, but the old stump was much slimmer. It would not prevent him from walking after his new stump healed. His prosthetist had already taken all necessary measurements for one of his new stubbies and was waiting for the new stump to stabilise enough for the remaining stubby to be made. The stubbies were to be cast of resin and carbon fibre, covered with black leather and capped with thick rubber soles. They would extend almost as far as where his knees had been. Chas would learn to walk slowly but safely on his stubbies, much admired by everyone who held an interest in body modification. While Chas waited for his second stubby, he continued exercising his Krukenbergs. He was satisfied with them, but discovered that they were a little too short to wear with a jacket. He tried wearing his artificial arms over the Krukenbergs and found that he would still be able to wear his hooks when necessary. The sockets felt different but that was to be expected.
The thigh stump healed and Chas was shortly the owner of two handsome black leather stubbies. He used his hooks to fit them to his leg stumps and tested them for twenty-four hours. Finally, the new Chas was ready to return home to reveal himself to Will, who was still unaware of the modifications which Chas had undergone.
Once again, Chas rapped on the door to announce his arrival. Will opened it to find a short version of Chas standing there. Will could see him only with peripheral vision. He was unable to move his head to look down. Will moved himself aside to allow Chas in. Chas, who was wearing his artificial arms, removed his jacket and stumped across the living room to a position where Will could see him properly.
– You look wonderful. I guessed you were going for your fourth amputation. Are your stumps the same length now?
– Yes, they are. I am told that they are both eminently suitable for use with prosthetic legs.
– You’re not going to have legs made, are you?
– No, of course not. I love the way the stubbies look and the sound they make when I walk. I want a pair of peg legs next.
– I want peg legs too. But I can’t have the stump for anything like that. The only way I can have peg legs is if I have my legs disarticulated and the pegs are attached to the bottom of my minerva.
– Is that what you’re planning next, Will? You want to be completely legless?
– My ortho man suggested it when I collected this hkafo-minerva. He recommended having both legs amputated so I don’t need to carry all the extra weight. He suggested a new minerva which covers my torso with short peg legs to let me swing myself along on short crutches.
– That sounds like a good idea. And you’ve obviously been thinking about it. I think it’s a good idea. Your legs have been useless now for many years. I like to see you struggle in your leg braces but I agree. If you were legless, it would be much easier for you to move around. But I have another surprise for you.
– Really? What?
– Take my arms off.
– OK. Sit down so I can reach.
Will was an expert at removing Chas’s artificial arms. He had done it hundreds of times in the past. When Chas lifted his arms for Will, his stump socks still disguised the Krukenbergs.
– And if you would take the stump socks off, please.
Will did as asked and his mouth fell open. Chas lifted his arms and moved his pincers. Will was stunned. He had never seen Krukenbergs in person, although he was well aware of their existence.
– They look amazing. Can you feel with them?
– Yes! That’s the best thing. I have my sense of touch back. The only trouble is that they are so short. But fortunately I can still use my hooks.
– You have the best of both worlds and brand new legs.
Will was impressed and grateful to Chas. He knew that Chas had partly redesigned his body to reflect Will’s own fetishes and interests. The stubbies were like a gift for Will, who had always admired the crippled gait of a stubby user. Now it was Will’s turn. The idea of being completely legless had begun to seem normal. He had made his decision and was merely waiting for the opportune time. Now, after seeing Chas’s pincers, he gained a new impetus to remodel his own arms. He had considered disabling them with plaster casts and steel bracing but he felt a growing need to discard his arms and adopt prothetic versions. He would use hooks like Chas. But he wanted something more extreme. He would have his arms removed near the shoulder leaving him with short stumps with which he might operate a pair of prosthetic arms and hooks. It would be difficult and mechanically challenging. He would find it extremely difficult to move on his legless minerva. It was unlikely that he would be able to use crutches with his new artificial arms. He could sit on some kind of trolley.
Time passed. Chas contented himself with remaining alone at home while Will still travelled to his job every weekday morning. Chas was comfortable using his Krukenbergs at home for most things. He learned to dress himself, prepare simple meals and the like. In public, however, he always wore his hooks. He had not yet exposed his pincers in public. It was simply a matter of practicality.
There was an office party for Will on his last day. He stood at the head of a table laden with canapés and hors d’oeuvres and a bowl of punch, shaking hands with everyone who came to wish him well. His meter-long whiskers were plaited and curled into itself, and the resultant beard was full and handsomely curved. It concealed much of the minerva. For the last time, Will lifted himself and his steel frame and crutched along to the tram stop. Instead of thinking about the past and his long career, he was thinking about the future and the pleasures of imminent new disabilities. He first wanted all his teeth pulled. He wanted to be toothless. And he wanted to be monocular. He wanted one of his eyes removed. The other would wear an eye patch with one tiny pinhole. He would be almost totally sightless. What would he look like to an outsider with an empty eye socket and a patch over the other eye? His toothless mouth clenching a big cigar, allowing it to droop, gripping it again with his naked gums. Holding it with the hook of his mechanical arm. He would not be able to see himself. He could use only his steel hooks to feel, to interpret the sound of the steel as vision.
Will and Chas discussed Will’s new revisions for several weeks, during which time both men had all their teeth extracted. Their faces changed, adding ten years to their appearance. Will was inspired to modify his appearance still more and planned to alter his nose somehow, making it more bulbous. With his empty eye socket, already shocking enough, a radically deformed nose would look stunning. The friends decided that Will should undergo his disarticulations, leaving only his balls and shrivelled penis. Will suggested the removal of his dick, to replace it with some kind of titanium micro-penis. Chas approved. Will’s torso would rest in a redesigned minerva which extended past the stump so he could sit without balancing with his prosthetic arms. They pondered some kind of wheeled apparatus onto which the minerva would fit, so Will could be moved around effortlessly. Will suggested he could use peg arms to propel himself but Chas reminded him that his stumps would be too short to gain much traction. Will imagined his future stumps, shorts remnants, almost useless, and agreed. Peg arms were out of the question. Peg legs similarly would be next to impossible to use. Will was temporarily depressed by so many desirable alternatives which he was already too disabled to use. The idea of being too disabled to even use prosthetics was exciting, and his mood soon improved.
Both men were now free to come and go as they wished, as far as their disabilities allowed them. Chas was still able to drive the Volkswagen with his Krukenbergs or hooks. After a convoluted process, they set out on a journey across-country to visit the old surgeon, probably for the last time. Chas drove for an hour or two and rested his Krukenbergs. They did not like the pressure required for driving.
The surgeon was delighted to welcome the two men. He was interested to see how well Chas had adapted to the life of a legless man and how comfortable he seemed on his stubbies. Will shook his hand carefully, hoping that the old man would live long enough to complete his alterations. If all went well, Will would leave the facility in six weeks or so as a quadruple amputee, completely legless with a smooth torso stump and equipped with two short stumps at his shoulders. Chas would collect the torso after another long journey in the car, and they would return together to Bavaria for Will’s continuing prosthetic care. There would be much work to be done to Will.
Chas had learned his lesson on the outward journey and wore his hooks when he returned. Will’s car was getting old but it was in good condition and the alterations made it almost impossible to sell the car. Chas was quite used to driving with hooks. His stubbies provided a firm base to sit on. Chas had always enjoyed driving. It was something he had learned as an adult in the west.
The surgeon was intrigued by the extent of Will’s amputations. The legs were indeed useless encumbrances and the man would be as mobile without legs if his minerva was adapted. Disarticulation of both legs was simple enough. There was no sawing of bone with its associated risks and problems. The femurs would simply be removed from the pelvis and the wound sewn up leaving a blank space. Will’s buttocks would act as padding to provide more comfort. But Will also wished to lose his arms almost completely. The surgeon understood Will’s description perfectly. He would be able to wear a pair of artificial arms with cable-operated elbows and hooks. He wanted to make sure that Will knew how difficult it would be to learn how to use the new arms. Will said, quite honestly, that he had the rest of his life to learn and that his quad amputee friend would always help him. The old surgeon reluctantly agreed. These four amputations were the last he would perform. At the age of seventy-six, it was time to retire. He had earned over two hundred thousand euro from volunteer amputees, most of them from the west. Now it was time for him to enjoy a few remaining years. He would go on a cruise and see the world. But first he amputated Will’s legs. It was convenient that the patient was already fitted with a catheter.
It was impossible for Will to use his minerva while his stump was healing. He was placed on a bed filled with tiny styrofoam pellets. When compressed air was pumped into the bed, the pellets moved around Will’s torso and head, holding him securely in place. Thus the man’s neck was supported at all times. It was a tedious time. He was tilted at mealtimes, when a rota of male nurses fed him soft foods which his toothless mouth could accept. When his stump had healed to such a degree that bandages were no longer necessary, the surgeon amputated his arms, producing two matching stumps twelve centimetres long. The stumps were bandaged tightly, forming them into perfect stumps for prosthetic use. More weeks passed. Will concentrated on the sensations his stumps produced. His torso stump was intensely erotic and his catheter tube often twitched in pleasure. Will enjoyed spreading his thighs wide and bringing his legs back together. Nothing visible happened but the sensations of void, of utter limblessness, were some of the most pleasurable he had ever felt. Having a limbless torso was almost like a continual orgasm.
A plaster of Paris minerva was manufactured for Will so that he could travel back to the south safely. His neck muscles had atrophied many years ago and he was completely reliant on a neck brace in order to breathe and eat. The plaster minerva had a flat base and holes for his anus and catheter. His new shoulder stumps poked out, useless appendages until Will received his complicated new prostheses. The old surgeon messaged Chas that the patient was fit for collection and once again Chas pushed his Krukenbergs into the sockets of his old artificial arms and set out for the east.
Will was relieved and delighted to see Chas waddling into his room on his stubbies, waving a hook in greeting. But Chas was shocked to see how utterly disabled Will had suddenly become. His arm stumps were so short and his leglessness was incredible. Chas was unsure how he would be able to tend to his lifetime companion on the journey home. The torso would need assistance with everything, and Chas was unsure if he could do everything needed. He was himself severely disabled, legless with artificial arms. A nurse carried Will out to the Volkswagen and placed him onto the back seat. He tightened the seatbelt over the plaster minerva, wished them a good journey home and left the two amputees to fend for themselves.
Chas bought a child’s push-chair for Will to sit in. It was black, the seat could be tilted to different angles and it had three wheels with Teflon axles. It was light to move and very responsive. On the third day after their return, Chas pushed his limbless friend to his prosthetist and allowed Will to explain his requirements.
– The new minerva should completely surround my stump. I want it to act like a broad leg stump. It will have a flat rubber base, like a wide foot.
– I understand. Wolfgang, once again we will bolt the equipment onto your body. You will wear it always and every three weeks you must return here where we can remove it and wash your body.
– I understand. That is quite acceptable.
Will’s body was scanned and photographed and six weeks later, he was invited back to transfer into his new leather and steel whole-body minerva. The area around his shoulders was specially adapted to allow the use of prosthetic arms.
However, there was a problem. Will made an appointment to discuss his future arm prostheses and Chas again pushed him along to the meeting.
– I’m sorry to tell you this, Wolfgang, but your range of movement in your minerva is too restricted. You will not be able to operate a pair of body-operated prostheses. You need to stretch your shoulders and arch your back.
Will was surprised and disappointed. It seemed quite obvious now that the prosthetist spoke of it. Why had he not thought of it himself?
– So what do you suggest?
– I think the only options are one or two electric bionic arms which you can operate by electrodes on your chest and on your stumps, or to wear cosmetic arms. They will have bendable elbows but the hands will not move. They are intended only to improve the body image of an amputee. They are not functional in any way.
– How much will a pair of bionic arms cost?
– It’s difficult to say but they start at twenty-five thousand euro each.
– Oh! I can’t afford that. How about a pair of cosmetic arms? How much will they cost?
– Something on a harness which you can wear over your minerva will be about two thousand. Is that what you would prefer?
– I have no choice. I will have two rigid hands.
The prosthetist set to work and created a custom yoke consisting of two shoulders and the upper arms. The forearms and hands were hinged at the elbows. Will chose glossy black over the alternatives available. Two weeks later, he collected his new arms with Chas’s patient assistance and left the clinic with two arms. They looked impressive. The hands were a handsome masculine shape. And that was all. Their artificial appearance was as shocking as his naked arm stumps. Chas moved the forearms so the hands rested in front of the rubber foot of his minerva. Only part of Will’s head and face was visible. His beard covered the front of his body brace. It was time to continue with new modifications.
Will wanted his right eye removed from its socket. He discussed the issue with Chas who spent many hours researching methods to injure the eye sufficiently to lead to its removal. There seemed to be no sure method. Perhaps it would be possible to find a doctor who could perform the operation for a fee but unfortunately there was no list of financially embarrassed doctors online. Will began to wear large sunglasses which covered most of his vision. Chas painted the rear surfaces of the lenses with black enamel paint, leaving a pinhole unpainted in the centre of the left lens. Will would view the world through it, unable to move his head or body.
He wanted to alter his face, to become a grotesque. He found a co-operative tattoo artist who also undertook botox and silicon work. With Chas by his side, Will explained that he wanted to expand his nose so that it became swollen and bulbous. If it doubled in size, he would be pleased. He gestured with his carbon arms, the rigid hands describing the increase in size. He received the first injections of silicon that same day. The procedure took four months, by the end of which Will’s face was completely transformed. Chas suggested something so shocking that Will’s titanium micro-penis clicked against the base of the minerva.
– Why don’t you split your nose down the middle? Spread the halves apart. It would look like you have two noses.
– You are a genius! I will!
The same tattooist undertook the gradual work. Will’s nose was quite senseless due to the silicon injections. His nose was split vertically, not too deeply. When the incision had healed, another would be made deepening it. More silicon was added to improve the shape of the two halves. After five or six sessions several weeks apart, Will’s face had two noses, each with one nostril. It was a stunning image. He wanted to feel his face, to explore his incredible double nose. His inert carbon arms twitched as he flailed with his weakening shoulder stumps. Will would never feel anything again.
The tattooist had been most helpful with the matter of vision. He had heard of cases where an eye had been surgically removed for fetishistic reasons but had never met anyone who admitted to providing such a service.
– But you can blind yourself quite easily with contact lenses. I sell opaque lenses with various designs on them. You could wear one permanently until it fuses with your retina. You would then be blind in one eye.
– That sounds acceptable. Please fit my right eye with an opaque contact lens.
It was completely white and immediately gave the impression that the eye was blind. It looked as shocking as Will’s double nose. From that day forward, his eye would be sightless and he would wear an eye patch with a pinhole in the centre over his seeing eye. On the return journey from the tattooist, Chas gave his friend a thirty centimetre long, seven centimetre diameter Bazuka cigar and lit it for him. The limbless torso, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and a chrome-rimmed officer’s cap, clenched the enormous cigar in his gums, sucking the sweet smoke and exhaling it from the nostrils of his two noses. His titanium micro-penis erected in excitement.
Will & chas
