THE AMPUTEE WITHIN

 

THE AMPUTEE WITHIN

A tale of perseverance by strzeka (10/25)

from an idea suggested by footlesskrukenberg

 

I found the following transcript during my research into apotemnophilia for a documentary. It was written by a surgeon, the late Dr Herman Spender, who treated and apparently advised his patient, who is still living and will therefore be referred to here by the pseudonym Wilf Krukenberger. I was uncertain about the veracity of the original story but I have been assured by WK himself that it is all true.

 

Excerpts from the transcripts by Dr H. Spender concerning the W. Krukenberger case (August 2017-May 2029).

 

I have concluded the preliminary series of interviews and examinations of Wilf Krukenberger, a white male of twenty‑six, independently wealthy thanks to a trust fund. He lives independently in a New York pencil tower. He occupies his time by reviewing current affairs and creates video sequences of his opinions for a video channel which generates additional income. WK has been known to me since 2008 when his case was first referred to me by his family MD.

 

WK sought advice for a problem which aggravated him and disturbed his parents who had discovered Wilf’s deviant behaviour and finally succeeded in breaking the boy’s spirit to such a degree that he eventually revealed his intentions behind his actions. Wilf was an obvious victim of BIID and believed his right arm was superfluous and wished it to be amputated. I reassured his parents that no such elective surgery would be forthcoming and recommended that they allow their son to continue with the odd habit of binding his arm. Wilf could purge some of his compulsion in this manner. My initial physical examination demonstrated no external cause for Wilf’s behaviour. He appeared to be an otherwise pleasant young man, with promising features becoming apparent. He was slender, as were his parents. They could obviously afford healthy diets. We agreed that I would make myself available for the family at short notice should the situation somehow deteriorate.

 

I assume I was originally recommended for the Krukenberger case due to my previous experience with elective amputees. I have studied the phenomenon and produced a thesis on the subject. As a result, I am rather more willing to entertain consideration of amputation, providing the patient can guarantee that his disability will not lead to inconvenience for others. I formed a similar opinion about Wilf Krukenberger in the early stages of our acquaintance. He wished to lose his right arm completely. I reassured him that a disarticulation was physically possible and a comparatively straightforward procedure. The shoulder would be merely smooth flesh. However, it was a rare procedure as most surgeons preferred to leave the patient with some degree of residual limb in order to enable use of a prosthesis. WK indicated that he understood. I satisfied my personal concern for the boy by issuing him with a set of instructions on the correct methods for arm binding and a list of the prospective physical dangers.

 

Wilf revealed that he had been binding his right arm to his shoulder and chest in order to pretend that his arm was absent, as indeed it was under such circumstances. It was difficult to maintain the binding for more than a couple of hours while he lived at home with his parents but he became skilful enough with the procedure that he could free himself quickly when necessary. He had been discovered by his father several times who disapproved of the dangerous game his son was playing, although he had no inkling of the boy’s apotemnophilia. WK himself never mentioned amputation to his family or friends, understanding that the subject was taboo and would merely lead to undesirable social restrictions. On rare occasions, Wilf was able to spend an entire weekend on a supposed sleep‑over but actually alone in a hotel room with his bent arm bound tightly, his almost bloodless hand resting hidden on his shoulder. Under a bulky jacket, his disguise was perfect and Wilf flirted with older men who showed concern for the young one‑armed boy’s physical well‑being. He was as careful to conceal his homosexuality from his parents as his determination to lose an arm. I found myself sympathising with the double dose of taboo characteristics nature had bequeathed him. To a man with an understanding of both, I saw beyond his quirks. I could appreciate his intelligence, his charm and not least, his physical beauty. He was a clean‑shaven teenager but his generous blond beard growth was readily apparent. He might become a handsome and hirsute young man, drawing attention to his physical attributes, including the shocking absence of an arm.

 

Three years passed before WK contacted me again. He greeted me politely, respectfully, and I enquired how I might be of assistance. WK complained of pain in his palm and wrist. He reported that he now lived independent of his parents who he had not seen in over a year and had now progressed to semi‑permanently binding his arm with plaster bandage. He changed the plaster at two month intervals. The arm had atrophied considerably and the hand itself was stiff and weak. His elbow was also next to useless and painful to extend. I invited WK for an interview with the preliminary intention of discovering how amenable WK would be to an earlier than expected disarticulation at either his elbow or his shoulder.

 

Excerpts from the interview with W. Krukenberger (January 2021).

          

          – Good morning, Dr Spender. Thank you for seeing me at this short notice.

          – Not at all. I’m delighted to see you again. [Small‑talk redacted]. What brings you to seek out professional advice?

          – I’ve been using fibreglass casts more or less permanently since I moved from New Jersey. I can bind my arm tighter and mould its shape better than I can with the elastic bandages I used before.

          – Ah! Hearing that, I can imagine the problems you are encountering before you even tell me. But do continue.

          – Well, I used to bind my arm for a weekend and it would pretty soon return to normal after I took the bandage off again for school. I mean, I could sense that there were changes taking place. My arm was much weaker than the other one. My hand lost its grip and my fingers lost their range of motion, I think they call it.

          – They do. But you continued to bind your arm whenever possible, is that right?

          – Yes, of course. Doctor, we have talked about my compulsion before and I can assure you that it has not diminished in any way, on the contrary. It had become more emphatic now I can benefit from casting my arm into oblivion.

          – You have a way with words, Wilf. I understand. I do not approve, but I understand. Go on. What about your elbow?

          – I was coming to that. I can’t get it straight. It gets sort of stuck at about sixty degrees. And also, the muscles have finally started to disappear. My bent arm now takes up about the same amount of space as a muscular man’s arm.

          – That must be something you have been anticipating, am I right?

          – Yes. I am concerned only with the pain and discomfort which I never had before. It’s worst in my hand. My fingers are fine when they’re flat but trying to bend them is agony. Same with my wrist.

          – OK. I want to examine your arm. Take your top clothes off and undo the bandage.

 

WK stood before me watching my expression as I appraised his body. One half of his body was perfect, the other looked diseased, atrophied and deformed. His right arm formed a V and his hand hung like a colourless paddle from his wrist. It was exactly the gesture associated with effeminate homosexuality. It was immediately obvious that WK would never socialise or appear in public with his right arm bent into such a provocative position. His forearm especially was atrophied and his hand seemed to belong to another species of primate. It appeared flattened, almost convex. I knew without being told that it was painful to move and useless in action.

 

          – Can you straighten your arm, Wilf?

          – No, not without considerable pain.

          – I understand. How long did you wear your latest cast?

          – Seven weeks, until yesterday afternoon.

          – And did you notice a change in your range of motion yesterday compared with previous times when you changed casts?

          – Yeah. This time things seem much stiffer and awkward.

 

I considered the alternatives for a minute or so. WK was a young adult responsible for his own body. He suffered from a compulsion for a right arm amputation of some description and had remained remarkably determined during the years of our acquaintance. I saw a virile handsome man whose mental troubles I empathised with and decided then to offer him the amputation of his choice. The spastic right arm frozen in its ridiculous gesture had to go in order to improve Wilf’s quality of life.

 

          – Very good. Thank you, Wilf. Put your top back on.

He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two rolls of sturdy bandage. He wrapped the crippled limb against his chest and deftly dressed in his outer clothes. The outline of the withered arm was invisible. To all intents and purposes, Wilf already had the right shoulder disarticulation I was intending to offer him. [Redacted discussion of alternate amputation levels]

          – How long after the operation before I can get back home and back into the swing of things?

          – It depends on the patient but I would suggest, Wilf, that a healthy young man such as yourself could recover from a shoulder disarticulation well enough to return to life after three weeks and heal completely in three months. Heal physically, that is. There is a much longer period of time associated with psychological recovery from such a major amputation.

          – But that applies to men who lose their arms when they never intended to.

          .. Indeed, although I could cite you examples of young men who lose both arms and rebound into life grateful for the new lifestyle which a pair of hooks bring with them. You may not have thought about it but deviant hands are always noticed by everyone, whether you deal with them or not. Even passers-by on the street will notice immediately.

          – I know. I have been one‑handed for five years!

          – Then I suggest that you are ready. I need you to sign some legal papers before I operate and then we need to work out a timetable.

 

Wilf Krukenberg became an amputee on the last day of October, 2017. After recovering from the initial surgical procedures, he had a right shoulder devoid of any trace of an arm. The amputation was performed by Dr Spender, and unknown to the patient, the deformed arm was preserved in alcohol for possible educational purposes. It was an unpleasant atrophied limb terminating in an obviously deformed hand and whoever had previously owned it would have been pleased to be rid of it.

 

Wilf Krukenberger discovered new vigour in his new body image. He played a larger rôle in New York night life, flaunting his lack of an arm which he never attempted to disguise. He was known in all the city’s gay dives where his defiant Nordic appearance was worshipped by both sexes of every race. His deficiency, for which points could be deducted but never compensated, was the scintillating absent arm. No way was it possible for such a beautiful man to make himself fully perfect. But for two or three seasons, his glistening armless stump was the Number One fascination on dance floors across NY. His thick blond beard defied any nay‑sayers to silence. He looked magnificent and his ultra‑amputation was fêted as the height of martial masculinity. Wilf naturally basked in the attention he received, especially from other similar bearded muscle‑bound admirers, some of whom he took home to his apartment half way up the pencil tower whose hundred square meter apartment had been bought and left empty by his father for tax purposes a decade previously. On naked marble flooring tiles, Wilf allowed himself to be raped by peers who found his disability to be the height of eroticism. During these sessions, Wilf realised that he would both give and receive more erotic pleasure if he had some kind of stump and it was to this end that he turned again to me for advice on prosthetic services. It was a short conversation. I was gratified to know that my surgery had been successful and the patient was content with the outcome. I gave him the contact details of one or two prosthetists in town who had my personal recommendation and wished him well. It was the last I heard of Wilf for a couple of years.

 

During this time, WK adopted both a live‑in lover and a passive arm to please him. The device was glossy white carbon fibre, a yoke with an attached arm. It had no motion. It was merely a rigid facsimile of an adult male arm with a hand in a loose fist. The lover enjoyed seeing WK wearing it in public and both men were excited by the simple fact that it was merely decorative. Its only practical use was to fill a sleeve. Inspired by his lover, WK also ordered a similar device comprising an eight inch long arm stump.

 

He continued binding. For this he needed the services of his companion who took great pleasure in rendering his lover helpless and assisting him with everything. WK found it disconcerting to have his left arm bound, having been used to the sensation on his missing right arm. Gradually he became accustomed to his severe disability and the lover dared to suggest a time when WK might undergo further surgery. He promised to remain with WK if he so desired. He promised to worship his armless lover regardless of how disabled he became. It was to this end that WK contacted me once again, initially asking my advice about a series of developments which both men had designed and hoped for.

 

Excerpts from the interview with W. Krukenberger (February 2024).

          

          – Good to see you again, Wilf. Take a seat. I see you are wearing your stump.

          – Yes. I usually wear it when I go out. It helps my clothes lay across my shoulders better and I like the bulk.

          – You still insist on managing without a myoelectric prosthesis.

          – I do. I see no point in removing an arm only to replace it with another, far inferior version.

          – Indeed. You find a cosmetic stump more appropriate.

          – I do. But I have not come to talk about my artficial stumps. I want to ask you about the Krukenberg procedure and if you might be willing to perform such surgery on my left arm.

          – Well, this comes as a surprise. I must admit I have always suspected that you would prefer to lose both arms but I could never have imagined a request for a Krukenberg. Are you quite sure, Wilf? It is one of the most disfiguring amputations and one of the most visually disturbing. It is also inconvenient to use, since the patient’s reach is diminished.

          – I know all the disadvantages. I’m going to have to have all my jackets and shirts altered with shorter sleeves to allow the prongs to poke out.

          – What sort of length are you thinking of? You could have long slender prongs, which have a very limited torque or more robust but shorter prongs with a good range of force for various applications. I would recommend a Krukenberg procedure resulting in prongs half the present length of you forearm to the wrist.

          – I agree. I want to experience this amputation for a year or two before I progress further.

          – Ah! Wilf, I must curb your enthusiasm. I have to tell you that my experience with Krukenberg patients is quite simply that they enjoy their mutilation so much that they always refuse any and all offers of remedial amputation. It is possible to use body‑powered prostheses with a Krukenberg amputation but the sockets can be the very devil to fit properly and is frequently uncomfortable.

          – I have no intention of wearing an artificial arm over my prongs. I have discussed this with my companion and we both want me to experience this particular disability before we progress to some further amputation.

          – Very well. Let me arrange for a time—I assume you are free to undergo surgery at any time?

          – Yes. Whenever it suits you.

          – I want to review the procedure first, Wilf. It is many decades since I last did a Krukenberg. If I remember correctly, the patient received bilateral Krukenbergs.

          – I’d like to meet him.

          – I’m sure you would and I’m sure you know I cannot possibly share his identity with you.

 

I performed a disarticulation of WK’s left hand a month later. I was still researching the latest data on the Krukenberg procedure, much of it from India and conveniently in English. I allowed WK to return home two days after surgery with a heavily bandaged stump. The time between losing his remaining hand and gaining two prongs was an unexpected bonus for a man who wished to explore the experiences of limblessness. For several weeks, he enjoyed his long handless forearm stump and his lover proved his worth by taking care of WK better than he might have done himself. But the stump was not to their liking, representing too minor a disability. At the end of June, I performed the Krukenberg surgery and produced a pair of pincers four inches long. The “fingers” were tightly bound and the mid‑length stump resembled any typical below‑elbow amputation. WK was impatient to see his new mutilation, as was I. It is almost impossible to predict exactly how the resulting Krukenberg will look. In this case, the result was much to our mutual satisfaction and WK inured himself for a gruelling series of rehabilitation sessions with a specialist flown in from Hyderabad. It was the gentleman’s first experience of foreign travel and I am afraid New York may have traumatised the man for life. He gave daily reports on WK’s progress in glowing language, full of pride on behalf of the handsome blond patient, the likes of whom the visitor had never imagined before. WK himself was almost orgasmic at finding himself with such an alien manipulator in addition to his empty shoulder. He was handicapped almost beyond bearing but pumped his ecstasy at limblessness into every fibre of his body and exuded power and positivity. I was certain that WK had finally reached his ultimate configuration. The Krukenberg was everything he anticipated, and more. It attracted horrified attention to itself, and WK continued with his rehab exercises until his prongs were equal to any body‑powered hook with the added benefit that they retained some degree of tactile sensation.

 

I was preparing to retire when WK approached me again. I watched him deftly manipulate a large encyclopaedia which he had brought in his backpack. His prongs looked healthy with minimal scarring and I felt a flush of pride for creating such a superior pair of prehensile manipulators. WK tapped at a photograph with his stump.

          – Look at this! One of the first artificial arms after the first world war. I want one of those or one very much like it.

          – But I don’t understand. I thought you were satisfied with the Krukenberg.

          – Oh, I am. But I know what it feels like now. I shan’t ever forget it. Don’t be fooled, doctor. It is a worthy replacement for a missing hand when certain conditions are met, but now I want to learn how to use a steel hook at the end of a heavy artificial arm all operated by a shrug or two.

          – It demands much more than a shrug or two, let me assure you. Depending on the length of the upper arm stump, you need to control the angle of the arm, the operation of the elbow and finally opening the hook. An above‑elbow prosthesis is a demanding piece of equipment. And many amputees prefer to go without rather than face the frustrations involved in using one.

          – Precisely. Why do you think I want one? I would like a stump to match the artificial one on my right. And then a rig designed for me with a yoke and a stump and a long black arm terminating in a worker’s hook.

          – Why a worker’s hook?

          – Because they are so very ugly and impractical.

          – Very well. I am very disappointed, Wilf. I had hoped you would benefit from the Krukenberg for the rest of your life. It doesn’t pain you, does it?

          – No no. Nothing like that. It’s just time to progress to the next stage. I want to know the trials which ordinary arm amputees experience. Don’t forget, I’ve never had a prosthesis on a stump. Just cut my humerus in half and I’ll be happy.

          – Well, you may be happy, Wilf. What do your friends and family say about your disablement?

          – I don’t ask and they don’t tell me. I know what my friends think of my prongs. You know what else they look like, don’t you?

          – Of course. It’s the main reason people find them so repulsive.

          – Hmm. My friends don’t think that way. But they’ll have a taste of steel hook soon enough.

          – You will be pleased to know that I have a postponed amputation surgery in two days. The patient is being moved to a hospital closer to home. So I’ll see you in two days. You’ll be here at least five days, Wilf. And your stump will be ready for a prosthesis in a month to six weeks. I assume you want a basic body‑powered limb with a hook?

          – What other kind is there? I may require a second passive arm, maybe with a hook attachment.

          – That is something to discuss with the prosthetist. I’m sure you will reach a suitable accommodation. Will this be the last amputation, Wilf? Surely you will not begin to pine for a second disarticulation. Whatever the case, this is the last time we shall meet in a professional capacity. I intend to retire in the near future.

          – In that case, doctor, I wish you well. Thank you for your understanding and willingness to help me. I would shake your hand but circumstances prevent me.

 

 Wilf was vaguely discontented with his body symmetry. He continued to derive physical and erotic pleasure from the absence of his right arm and loved to admire the expanse of flesh at his shoulder without a vestige of the once healthy arm. The mental confusion between his brain sending commands to use his right hand and the inability to do so remained a source of deviant pleasure. In tandem with his recovery, he found himself preferring to present himself as a bilateral amputee with two above‑elbow stumps, one natural, the other a prosthesis. The natural stump was of little use to him. For the first time in many years, he found it unnecessary to bind an arm. The stump was not intrusive and his body symmetry was balanced by his artificial stump. Once again, his lover suggested various types of passive arm, including a pair of cylindrical arms with adjustable elbows which terminated in golden globes the size of golf balls. The arms held his sleeves in the desired position and for many months, he wore his spherical replacements for hands everywhere in public. Unlike almost all other imaginable replacements, the globes were completely impractical for everything, which brought great satisfaction to both men.

 

WK learned of the death of Dr Herman Spender by drowning off the coast of Florida from his prosthetist. WK had been persuaded to acquire a lightweight full‑length prosthetic arm with a hook in order to alleviate the work burden on his eternally attentive lover. He also found his everyday routine increasingly tedious and believed that the challenges associated with learning to operate the demanding prosthesis might bring him some sense of achievement, which he privately admitted to missing. He concentrated on designing the bilateral prosthesis which would feature the artificial right humeral stump, all the while fretting about the probable future outcome for himself following the death. He would almost certainly never achieve perfect symmetry. He would be stuck with the upper left arm stump and his empty right shoulder. It was not what he had envisioned for himself when he began binding. If only he had not thrown himself on the mercies of his companion! He might have progressed much sooner through the phases of amputation. He had wasted years with his Krukenberg arm. But they had been good years and he had found renewed self‑confidence in the simple ability to manipulate everyday items with fleshy prongs. Perhaps he had been wrong to progress. He knew his restricted physical prowess was not sufficient to make a success of wearing the new left prosthesis. He determined then and there, in the prosthetist’s workshop, that his amputations could continue with artificial legs. He had never been curious about leglessness but had met many leg amputees over the years, unavoidably, and believed that he could easily equal their skills of balance and power. He might forgo his legs, both of them, and progress to walking on two stubbies. It would be an even greater achievement considering he no longer had arms to help with balance. He imagined himself tottering on two short peg legs with some kind of shortened hook prosthesis on his arm stump. He needed only to find an accommodating surgeon, the equal of Dr Spender.

 

Thus it was that at the age of thirty‑two, disabled almost beyond prosthetic salvation, Wilf Krukenberger allowed his companion to begin a regime of binding his legs tightly for long periods of time with the eventual result of bilateral amputation. WK insisted on retaining enough stump for prosthetic use. He imagined himself teetering about the apartment on two stubbies barely longer than his stumps. He had seen men fitted with stubbies comprising nothing more than rubber blocks attached to stump sockets. The lovers discussed how best to go about the binding process. They wished to avoid complications due to cardiovascular problems caused by lack of blood flow while simultaneously generating enough tissue damage to require amputation. A chance meeting with a legless amputee in a coffee bar gave them additional inspiration.

 

WK was quite open about his disability and brazenly approached other amputees to shoot the breeze. This time proved to be decisive. For the first time, they had met an amputee who had achieved for himself the degree of leglessness he had yearned for by the simple and accidental method of kneeling with his weight on his legs for sixteen hours, thanks to the effects of a slightly heavier than usual dose of fentanyl. Oblivious to the world and ignored by passers‑by, the man was allowed to remain stationary from early morning until midnight, when he returned to consciousness and discovered that not only could he not feel his legs, he could not move them either. He called for help and soon discovered that his legs were bloated and black with the skin cracking and leaking fluid in several places. He was rushed to hospital where both legs were amputated mid‑thigh after the most cursory of examinations.

          – So you recommend a dose of fentanyl, do you?

          – It worked for me, man. I’ve not used it since I got my stumps. I reckon if you sit still for sixteen hours without fentanyl, you’d get the same results.

WK stared at the short stumps almost hidden by a pair of denim briefs and looked questioningly at his lover. WK tapped the leg amputee’s shoulder with a golden globe and the men returned home to begin planning. WK was excited at the prospect of new challenges and his lover was intrigued to see what kind of stumps WK would be left with after such an inexact procedure.

 

Planning was one thing, realisation quite another. WK learned to operate his artificial arm well enough for it to be of genuine use to him and his outlook on life became more spontaneous and adventurous. All through this time, his right shoulder remained empty, uniquely personable and WK’s defining characteristic. He became familiar as the one‑armed man whose single arm was artificial. He used a worker’s hook by choice for its deviant appearance and impracticality for delicate applications. It was a fearsome attachment which could do genuine damage. Despite his severe disability, WK remained a man who commanded respect.

 

His leg binding continued regularly and with increasing duration. It involved a superhuman degree of tolerance. WK was immobile in one position for an increasing number of hours during each session. WK found the pain of recovery to be increasingly demanding until one Friday evening when his lover was preparing him for a shower before bedtime, he announced that they would begin the sixteen hour session the next morning at six. By midnight, WK expected to be in surgery. His legs were bound more tightly than ever before by his obedient lover and WK was left on the bedroom floor in front of the tv with a six hour long video of an aquarium on repeat to watch. As the hours passed, his mind calmed and overcame the initial discomfort as his leg muscles protested against the cessation of oxygen supply. Far more quickly than might be expected, his system tried its best to maintain the entire organism but shifted to damage control halfway through the process. The tissue below WK’s knees was abandoned and allowed to die. It changed colour from pink to red, through purple to near black. The lover called for an ambulance soon after midnight and gave a convincing explanation that an erotic game featuring sado‑masochism had gone horribly wrong. WK was transferred by the medics still in a kneeling position. WK’s expectation of midnight surgery was only four hours premature. Ultrasound video indicated an amputation level of ten centimetres below his hips and by seven in the morning, his lower body was encased in bandaging again, this time without his legs.

 

The lover was aghast at the brevity of the new stumps. They were nowhere near the muscular residual limbs they had discussed and planned for. But WK was content with his lot. He intended to undergo an osseointegration procedure and then to affix rubber ferrules directly to his short stumps. He would learn to totter on tiny stumps, held erect and prevented from falling thanks to a custom‑made leather harness which enveloped his torso, and whose reins were held by his lover. His torso would be bound and held at all times when he attempted to walk again under his own power. After much practice, he would discover his new equilibrium and venture out into public once again, taking ten centimetre steps, waddling his torso with its single glistening artificial arm and viewing the world with eyes almost hidden behind his magnificient blond beard which rose high on his cheeks and extended to his chest. WK’s transformation into a quadruple amputee was as complete as it would ever be and he savoured every moment of his extreme limblessness, indulging his severe disabilities and delighting in his truncated body.

 

 

THE AMPUTEE WITHIN