INDULGENCE
Amputee fiction by strzeka (10/26)
Dedicated to leglessone for his assistance and support
1
Roger Weston lived alone in a house on a corner widely believed by local children to be haunted. The reason lay chiefly not with the house but with its inhabitants. Roger’s mother had been a widow suffering from a cruel ailment which caused her to stoop ever more severely towards the premature end of her life. Children would point at her in the street and invent stories about the magic spells the old hag cast and what had then befallen her victims. Roger himself hardly made a better impression. He had been one‑legged since early childhood, thanks to a sarcoma in his right knee. He walked on an artificial leg with a severe limp unless he was in a hurry, in which case he tied his empty trouser leg up and used crutches. The children whispered about him too. Their whispers involved cannibalism. The old witch who lived there had cut his leg off and eaten it, although she had not been seen for years.
Unsurprisingly, Roger lived a solitary life. He was on polite terms with most of the neighbours and ignored the rumours he occasionally heard about his home being haunted. He had certainly never experienced anything remotely supernatural. Since his mother’s death, he had maintained the house in its impeccably and had refurbished the upper storey into a broad space dedicated to his chief interest. Whether through serendipity or intent, Roger had a passion for artificial limbs of all kinds, especially artificial legs. When his mother was alive, he had succeeded in hiding the erotic pleasure he derived from his prosthetic legs and the pride he felt in swinging along the street one‑legged on crutches. Roger realised perfectly well that his fascination was not normal but saw no reason to stop. He had not asked for a stump nor could he remember much about the process which led up to his amputation. But he could remember how his stump gradually played an ever more prominent part in his puberty and its significance to his identity as a young adult. Roger took pleasure not only in his generously proportioned penis. His stump also featured in his erotic fantasies and by his mid‑twenties, his latest artificial leg represented something far more than an assistive device. It was the culmination of his empowering fetish which expressed his amputee status in public and brought him the same excitement as using his stump to masturbate surreptitiously.
2
Roger had left school early, discouraged by exorbitant tuition fees and chronic indecision about what to study. He was good with his hands and had collected an impressive array of power tools. He had taught himself amateur electronics and could assemble basic logic circuits if necessary. He had worked in a local supermarket’s frozen foods department for the past four years and had quickly shown an aptitude for its convoluted logistics and mechanical maintenance. He had a respectable wage and few expenses. His new artificial leg was his latest achievement. He had designed and carved it himself from the supports off an ancient grand piano. The wood was probably mahogany and quite rare in the modern age. It was heavy but surprisingly malleable. Roger sculpted the lower leg first before slicing it vertically and removing much of the inner material. Now reunited, the leg was a superb example of a muscular male limb. It did not resemble Roger’s natural leg in any way. It was far better proportioned and its century old wood glistened. Roger had thought long and hard about what type of foot would best crown his achievement and settled for a toeless facsimile of a male foot whose sole purpose was to hold a shoe firmly. He paid attention to the angle at which the heel struck the ground, hoping that he could recreate the highly erotic twisting motion of an artificial foot as weight transferred vertically onto it. According to simulations on his CAD‑CAM program, the foot should permanently rotate through ten degrees each and every time he placed pressure on it. The motion looked reassuringly unnatural but was not obtrusive. It was something which amused Roger, something which other men might notice and wonder about.
The thigh socket was also the first of its kind. Roger now had access to a router, which accurately reproduced the demanding curves of his stump. Although the stump was only slightly less than half his former thigh, Roger had crafted the socket to encompass his entire upper leg. It had been many years since he had experienced a full thigh and Roger was overcome by the simple joy of wearing a long socket. He folded his trouser leg over it and noticed that its length no longer sufficed to reach his beltline. Roger preened naked in front of a mirror, debating the wisdom of creating a lighter, dedicated artificial stump. It would be his next project. This particular socket was attached to the muscular lower leg by hinged bars. The knee mechanism was a primitive design based on stiff steel springs which guaranteed firm support until Roger sat. By manually positioning his artificial lower leg, the springs would hold the limb bent. To straighten it again, Roger merely rose and kicked his stump forward. The lower leg clacked into place and the springs arranged themselves to support his weight again.
3
For all his skill and dedicated work in producing such a demanding object, there was still considerable psychological effort ahead before the new leg could be used for its intended purpose. Roger’s previous legs had all been made by professional prosthetists who had studied and gained their required qualifications entitling them to handle stumps. Roger found the process both practically and aesthetically fascinating. He felt that his stump was his most sensitive and intensely private body part, more so than his sexual organs, impressive though they were. It was always a mental effort to succumb to a prosthetist’s requests to strip in order to reveal his stump and allow it to be manipulated by a stranger. Every time he had a new limb made while he was growing, he had been recommended to ditch the old‑fashioned method of suspension which he had used since he got his first primitive wooden leg when he was still a toddler. Roger preferred a broad leather belt from which four elasticated rubber straps slotted into receptors around the upper edge of his socket. His new untried leg was suspended in exactly the same way and Roger knew from long experience that whatever problems he might have with the mahogany limb, it would certainly never detach unexpectedly from his stump.
There was a considerable decision to be made regarding the new limb. It was heavier than any of his other legs and this would cause him to walk with a noticeable limp. However, it was a deliberate choice. By adopting his first home‑made wooden leg as his permanent prosthesis, he was setting himself on a path on which he would become so accustomed to wearing a heavy limb that conventional prostheses would no longer bring the psychological satisfaction Roger sought from his artificial limbs. He craved the unnatural artificiality of both their appearance and performance. His more recent legs had allowed him to stride along with a natural rhythm. He used their perfect ergonomic balance to adopt a laboured gait which emphasised his disability. Roger was a young man and knew how exciting the sight of a young cripple was for the kind of person he hoped to attract. He hoped to entice someone who would love him for his disability and make love to his stump with the same enthusiasm as he did himself.
His first trials with the wooden leg went better than he had dared to hope. He wore a silicone liner, as always, which protected his stump from abrasions. Much to his delight, he had no meed of further padding around his stump. He had crafted the interior of the wooden socket accurately enough for it to grip the entire surface of his stump firmly. He threw his head back in ecstasy as the leg made its characteristics known to him for the first time. The weight, the length of the socket, the undefinable steely jingle of the springs for the knee and last but not least, the heady scent of freshly machined old wood emanating through beeswax. He tried to jiggle his stump back and forth but it would not move. For the first time in many years, he felt as if his entire leg was transformed into something otherworldly. He could feel his stump but there was no outward sign of it. The black mahogany leg dominated his reflected image and Roger turned slowly before beginning a series of exercises intended to acquaint him with a new artificial limb. He savoured its new weight with every step and was intrigued by the sounds of the steel springs. His knee bent reliably and no more than he needed before the system of springs ensured the lower leg straightened in readiness for his next step.
Roger felt more pleased with himself than he had had reason to expect. His new leg, crafted by his own hands, fit perfectly and its solid mechanical action guaranteed that he would always be recognised as a one‑legged man.
4
Roger fell into a new routine after adopting the mahogany leg for daily use. Despite his conscious efforts to rely on his leather belt and the rubber straps to suspend it, it was inevitable that his stump bore additional stress and strain during the day. It was a relief to change into customised leisurewear after returning home. His work uniform trousers were exchanged for a pair of loose jeans of soft brushed denim from which the right leg had been removed and the cuff sewn neatly. The shortened leg was precisely tailored to the length of his stump. Roger appreciated the ability to touch his naked stump while relaxing. He enjoyed the sensations of gentle massage. The shape of his stump was ideally matched with his broad right hand and his fingers felt at home resting on the soft mound of flesh.
It was not inconvenient to rely on crutches at home. The house was not large and Roger had always taken his meals in the kitchen. The lounge was large enough for perhaps six adults but as he reconfigured the upper floor after his mother’s passing, Roger spent ever more time upstairs in his mancave surrounded by woodworking tools and the surreal experimental products he crafted. The mahogany leg was his greatest achievement so far but there were a myriad ways to explore his stump’s capabilities. He had already settled on an artificial stump for his next project. It would probably be similar to the socket on the mahogany leg with a handsomely curved tip exactly opposite his knee. Roger was completely accustomed to the length of his stump. It was short enough to conceal easily inside a folded trouser leg for a one‑legged crippled appearance which he loved and long enough to power a demanding artificial leg such as his latest one. Roger had begun to think of it as The Monster. It amused him to give a nickname to his prosthetic limbs but it was not more strange than the habit some men had of naming their cars. The Monster was fairly monstrous, brought into being after serving as legs for an ancient piano.
The artificial stump would serve two purposes. Protection and display. It would definitely prevent the stump from being knocked by accident. It goes without saying that the stump is both vulnerable and essential. If it were injured in any way, his ability to walk would be in jeopardy. This alone is reason enough for Roger to consider manufacturing a socket, an artificial stump. The other reason is what was just alluded to. A hefty circular stump, maybe painted pink, would look spectacular poking out of his cut‑off jeans or even hidden inside a turned‑up trouser leg. He had never had a bulky stump. It would be interesting to have a thick stump the size of half a leg hidden away but prominent at the same time.
Roger decided to print his artificial stump in sections and assemble it. The fitting need not be so very precise because there would never be any pressure applied to his stump through the socket. He spent several evenings sketching sockets of various designs and lengths before committing himself and two reels of plastic filament. There were six lower sections which closed together forming a stretched dome. These slotted into eight upper sections which circled his stump and bore slots for the rubber straps from his belt.
He bought sheets of fine sandpaper and small quantities of white, yellow and red enamel paint. He wanted the new socket to be perfectly smooth, without a sign of any of the joints. It took far longer than he expected but the socket was finally ready for two coats of a mixture of the three paints which closely resembled the artificial Caucasian skin tone commonly used for prosthetic limbs. The paint dried to a realistic sheen, similar to the reflection of light from clean skin. Roger was increasingly impatient to wear his new creation, having expected it far sooner. He wore his cut‑off leisure jeans. The long cylinder extended far below the tip of his stump and ended in a perfect semispherical shape alongside his knee. It looked both natural and artificial at the same time. The colour was almost correct but disturbingly uniform. The shape was like a thigh but too even. The tip was rounded like a well sculpted stump but far too regular. Yet it could only be a stump. Roger stroked its exposed surface and felt faint vibrations in his stump. The socket felt cool and looked extrovert. He had never exposed his stump deliberately before and yet this artificial stump insisted on stealing the show. He rebalanced himself in front of a mirror and admired himself from different angles. He tried waggling his stump and felt it moving around against the inner surface of the socket. It made no difference to his outer appearance. He was still a one‑legged man but now he had a titanic stump to impress any onlooker.
5
Roger adopted his new stump socket with alacrity. Before long he ditched his crutches at home and hopped about on his left leg. The new artificial stump provided him with the psychological support necessary to function one‑legged in his home environment. At first it was simply amusing to feel the same sensations on his stump as engendered by an artificial leg without having any of the other benefits of an artificial leg. The artificial stump was merely decorative. But after a few weeks, Roger began to feel that the long rigid stump was part of his persona, part of his libido. He no longer found himself wishing his natural stump were longer. He now had a long stump, plainly visible for anyone to see. It was a more assertive stump and more demanding too. Its weight caused Roger to cease trying to move his short natural stump in the same provocative way he had when going au naturel before. The long stump asserted its presence both when he used crutches and when he hopped. It felt reassuring to grip the rigid unfeeling stump with his right hand as if to remind himself that he did indeed still have a genuine stump. The fake stump became as essential as his artificial legs. He bought more blue jeans and had them altered so the tip of his fake stump poked out of the bottom of cut‑off right jeans leg. It looked indecent and exciting. It also looked completely convincing. Roger felt himself to be an amputee blessed with a long stump instead of a cripple still contending with the results of childhood cancer. Thus it was doubly disturbing when he received an urgent recall after his latest five-year checkup. There was a dark shadow on the x‑ray on his left femur. His doctor wanted a sample.
6
His cancer had returned. Was it possible for the same strain to lay dormant for over twenty years and suddenly recur? Or was he particularly susceptible to it for some destructive genetic reason? Whatever the cause, the shadow was the same strain. There was only one certain treatment in addition to chemo or radiation. Roger considered how his life would change if instead of hopping around on his left leg like a one‑legged man, he adopted an artificial stump on his right and used short crutches in place of his missing left leg. The surgeons wanted to remove the leg entirely. It would be disarticulated from his pelvis. Roger imagined himself after the operation. He would be legless. Almost, but not quite. He would still have his stump, the half thigh he had been proud of since chlidhood. The loss of his diseased leg was unfortunate but his stump promised more amputee games and experiences. Roger knew whatever he did with his stump now, whatever artificial limb or artificial stump he created for it, he would still be one‑legged. Intrigued by the way his life would centre around his leglessness and his myriad prostheses, he signed the surgeon’s papers and was brought back to consciousness several days later. His left hip was heavily bandaged but he felt no especially intense pain. It had been a disarticulation. The thigh bone was removed from the pelvis and the surrounding skin sewn closed. There was no stump, only a gash now well on the way to healing. Roger’s felt himself reborn, empowered by the complete loss of his left leg to explore disability and mobility with his original stump and his imagination and skill at creating his own artificial limbs.
7
Roger relied on a wheelchair for several months until he felt comfortable with his new body image. He continued to wear his artificial stump. Without a companion, it attracted more attention when Roger was seated and mobile and its artificial appearance drew the occasional confused enquiry. Despite its approximate shape resembling a leg stump and its colour resembling that of Roger’s ethnicity, it was obviously a prosthetic stump, useless in all respects and disturbing to see. Roger continued to rest his right hand on it whenever possible. His stump had grown in significance and Roger was anxious to develop a prosthesis which would satisfy his physical needs for mobility and his psychological need for an erotic and sensuous artificial stump.
Although his artificial stump was not intended to be weight‑bearing because of its unsuitable upper rim, Roger had experimented with its capabilities by attempting to use it as a stubby leg. He had ordered a custom pair of aluminium cutches manufactured by a Swiss company for use with stubbies. Their length was adjustable for use with artificial leg extensions from fifteen to fifty centimetres. Roger was comfortable enough in his wheelchair with his fake stump but realised that he would have to be considerably taller if he were to continue with his hobby. His equipment all demanded that its users be standing. If Roger were to design a stubby or a peg leg, he would have to wear one in order to operate his machines. Fortunately it was possible to design a peg leg extension on his laptop without a leg prosthesis. His computer could generate suitable pieces and his printer faithfully reproduced them. The resulting peg leg required two pairs of liners and a thick stump sock but it looked remarkably arousing on Roger’s stump. He sat in his wheelchair wearing the peg leg and wheeled around, excited by his utterly disabled appearance. He gazed at his reflection and turned his wheelchair gently from side to side, gloating at his new peg leg as shards of light ran up and down its glossy surface. It was not much longer than where his knee had once been but its sturdy build promised to keep its user erect in more ways that one. Roger had printed the components using black filament so it resembled a traditional wooden peg leg. They were always painted with thick black gloss paint with the sole exceptions of the ornate, heavy peg legs typified by fictional admirals and senior seamen with hooks for hands, half‑blinded by an eyepatch. Roger intended crafting such a heavy peg leg for his solitary stump and to spend the rest of his life as a cripple with a spectacular peg leg.
8
There were many printed peg legs of increasing length before Roger finally found a quantity of suitable dark wood for his first definitive, permanent peg leg. He had spent two years accustomising himself to relying on his stump for mobility after having allowed it its freedom for many years. His first experimental peg leg, assembled from several pieces whose seams were still apparent, had taught him that it was possible for a legless man such as himself to rely on crutches, using whatever prosthetic device suspended from his belt as a mere point to rest on. Indeed, in Roger’s case, there was no chance of him ever using any of his peg legs to actually walk with. He would never thrust his weight over a peg leg with the power from an opposing leg. The tip of his peg leg would only hold him for a moment while he repositioned his axillary crutches before swinging his weight forward for his next step. It was this continual process of his peg leg passively kissing the ground ahead which fascinated and excited him. His gait was completely deviant from anything he had seen, although he knew that men had lived successful lives bearing themselves upright on a single peg leg. In modern days it was possible to use an electrified artificial limb with automatic knees and ankles, rebalanced daily by input from a phone app. Roger much preferred the idea of inputting his creativity into a series of wooden peg legs.
9
After his hip had healed, Roger felt himself cast into the deep end as far as his future mobility was concerned. He would forever be reliant on his half thigh stump. It was all he could remember of his right leg. For many years, he had allowed it a passive rôle. It was usually cocooned inside his artificial stump for protection and exhibitionism. Following the loss of his leg, his stump was suddenly thrust into the forefront. If he wanted to benefit from it, it should be considerably stronger with better endurance. It was likely to hold a peg leg of some description for many hours every day, unless Roger contented himself with using a wheelchair. He regarded a chair as the method of last resort. Although he cut an arresting figure in his chair with his long fake stump, he developed an insistent erotic desire to walk with a three point stance. He wanted to learn to use crutches smoothly enough that the motion of his solitary peg leg would seem admirable and enviable. He needed to train his stump to repeat a precise action reliably and to tolerate his standing weight for hours on end.
Roger discussed his options with his oncological doctors and his prosthetist. He was advised that his recurring cancer had been beaten, that there were no more indications of cancer cells in his system, but he would be invited for progressively less frequent checks until five years hence, when he would be declared cancer free, if such was the case. His prosthetist saw no reason why Roger should not exercise his stump with a view to prosthetic use if he so desired. It would not alter his prognosis in any way. As if to confirm his pronouncement, he prescribed Roger’s first professionally made peg leg and issued a smart new pair of adjustable aluminium axillary crutches. The peg leg consisted of a socket with its familiar strap and belt suspension. Its naked aluminium pylon was thirty‑five centimetres long with a fat rubber ferrule at the tip. On his third visit after his initial fitting, Roger was presented with his peg leg and spent an intriguing hour practising how to move between parallel bars and between his new short crutches. He felt himself to be disabled to a degree he had not yet imagined. He stood on an artificial leg which was totally incapable of moving without first disabling his hands and arms. The crutches looked deviant too. They were much shorter than standard crutches but of the wrong proportion to be intended for a child. The prosthetist did his best to adjust their length to match that of the peg leg and was finally satisfied. Roger insisted on wearing the peg in his wheelchair when he left to return home. His short crutches were tied to his chair with elastic hooks and he made his way back to his house with his stump reinforced by a single aluminium peg leg. It felt invincible and looked shocking. The metallic peg was long enough to be conspicuous. Roger felt indefatigable.
10
Roger took advantage of an introductory trial offer at his local gym and became a regular visitor during early mornings when there was the least competition for equipment. He was not only legless, but also considerably older than most of the regulars. They left him alone, not knowing how to approach such a disabled man or talk about exercising his awful stump. All except one lithe young blond who collided with Roger’s wheelchair one morning and literally toppled into his lap. Thanks to Roger’s absent leg, there was room on the seat. The youngster fumbled for balance and hit upon Roger’s unyielding artificial stump. He yelped in shock and surprise and laughed nervously as he straightened himself and rose to his impressive height.
– I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you down there. Oh, that sounds bad. Sorry!
– Look, don’t worry about it. You didn’t do any damage.
Roger rapped on his artificial stump to show how it was protected from mishaps.
– That’s amazing. I love the fact it looks like a real stump. Well, sort of.
– You know about stumps, do you?
– Yeah, sort of. I’m interested in learning about disability for my uni course, see? I want to be a physiotherapist after, see? Maybe for disabled services, see?
– I do see. That’s a very noble intention. Have you run into many stumps like mine?
– No, you’re the first. Sorry about that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.
– You didn’t. Listen, would you like to help me this morning? I want to exercise my stump and I need a spotter to hold my torso while I stretch.
– OK. I could do that for you.
So it was that Roger and his new friend Odd, just over half his age, met and befriended each other. Odd was originally Norwegian but had been evacuated with his family after the destruction of Stavanger and the family had stayed and made England their home. Odd insisted that people became used to his name after a short while and no longer found it odd. He also admitted to finding amputation the most erotic thing he could imagine and wished that one day, he might also experience the loss of his right leg in order to become a one‑legged man on crutches, if he could find a pair tall enough for him. Roger had no objection to Odd’s fetishlike obsession with his stump and peg leg. Odd frequently stood and stared at the empty void of Roger’s lower body while calmly stroking his handsome penis. Roger reciprocated as best he knew how, by gently moving his stump against his penis in an erotic feedback loop.
11
Odd completed his course and found employment in a neighbouring town’s rehabilitation centre for ex‑servicemen. There were enough stumps, old and new, to keep Odd occupied both professionally and erotically. Inevitably, Odd eventually confessed during another shared weekend that he had been planning to ice his leg up to his knee in order to force an above‑knee amputation. Roger was not surprised. He had listened to Odd singing the praises of leg stumps and had guessed he might make an attempt to gain his own stump before long. He was only twenty‑five, young enough to enjoy a complete adult life as a one‑legged cripple with plenty of scope for additional disability later in life as his need evolved.
Odd asked Roger if he would act as spotter if he went ahead with his icing. He had everything planned. The equipment had been purchased and stashed in the cellar and he had determined the correct method for ordering a larger than normal amount of dry ice. Roger was the wrong person to ask for advice. He insisted that Odd’s life would improve immeasurably after he gained a stump and that he, Roger, thought it likely that Odd would become a double above knee amputee before he was forty. Odd laughed. Roger could read his mind.
And so it was that one dreary wintery evening, Roger struck his way to Odd’s apartment, his peg leg kicking its way through drifts of fallen leaves. Odd assured Roger that he was sure that what he was doing was the correct thing to do and that he would have no regrets. Roger agreed and the long night of pain and tedium began.
Odd had judged his physiological tolerance to intense cold correctly. The dry ice had extended as far as his knee cap and his leg was unsalvageable. Odd’s amputation left him with two thirds of his thigh, a stump short enough to make an impactful statement but long enough to enable powerful prosthetic use. However, Odd had other plans and after becoming used to his ultra‑long wooden crutches, he took possession of his own knee‑length artificial stump. Roger had taken his measurements and printed the necessary components with gloss black filament. The socket was intended to adhere to Odd’s stump with a rubberised liner. Odd immediately appreciated his stump’s extra length and its sensuous lack of feeling when he ran his broad hands up and down it. He threw his head back and pumped ejaculate into his boxers as proof of his approval. He changed into a pair of army surplus shorts he had brought with him and admired himself and the appalling appendage poking from his shorts.
– Are you pleased with it, Odd? I guess you are.
Odd had soaked his jean’s crotch and the ripe scent of a horny man’s smegma‑tainted spunk emanated from it.
– I love it.
– How about painting it to look like mine?
– Oh, do you still have the paint? Yeah! Let’s do that. It would look amazing.
It would look disturbing and horrifying to any unsuspecting onlooker. Roger found an unused paintbrush and offered Odd three small tins of half‑used paint.
– It’s mostly white, Odd, with some red to make it pink and then yellow to make it more natural, although it never looks natural whetever you do to it.
– I know. That’s what makes it look so special.
Odd removed his fake stump and set to covering it with the first coat of paint. The socket soon took on a pallid appearance.
– You need more red in the next coat, Odd. That looks pretty sickly.
The first coat dried while the amputees relaxed together watching a documentary about the rehabilitation of limbless war veterans and fondling each other’s stumps. The second coat was of a more robust tint and resembled that of a naked leg on a cold winter morning. The fake stump might look quite convincing from a short distance. It inevitably looked phallic which, both men realised, was its most attractive feature.
12
Odd’s prosthetist declared the stump to be healed and offered a prosthetic limb. Roger had coached Odd ahead of time so the young blond wasted no time in explaining that he required nothing more demanding than an aluminium peg leg attached to a standard thigh socket, tipped with a fat rubber ferrule. There need be no knee or other method to bend the peg leg. It should be straight and rigid, completely reliable in all situations. The prosthetist had nothing against the unusual request and rationalised that it may be wise to become accustomed to the feel of a simple peg leg before progressing to a more advanced type of prosthesis. Odd had no intention of doing so. He was collaborating with Roger on the design of Roger’s first genuinely spectacular peg leg. Roger had found a chunk of walnut which had formed part of the frame of a gentleman’s garderobe, an old‑fashioned wardrobe. With some skillful woodwork, Roger was sure he could recombine sections sliced from the walnut to create a peg leg reminiscent of something carved for an amputee nobleman in the eighteenth century. In the meantime, Odd would learn to walk with his peg leg. His gait was halting at first. The peg weighed next to nothing but during Odd’s first weeks, it seemed heavy. Its tip hit the pavement hard at an angle which looked uncomfortable to maintain. But with more practice and friendly advice from Roger, Odd gradually honed his style to something more fluid and controlled. There was no need to thrust his stump forward. A slight movement was enough to move the tip of the peg far enough. The tip avoided striking the pavement with just a little sideways movement. By the time Roger had finished work on his own walnut peg, Odd was walking without a limp and was already considering the next phase in his transition into a dedicated amputee. Summer was on the way and it was time to alter some of his jeans to display his disability in its full glory.
Roger’s new peg leg had presented many problems during its design and construction. The raw material consisted of unfinished slabs and chunks of wood. In order to turn them into parts which would combine to make an extended conical cylinder, Roger wrote his own app to convert a predetermined amount of cubic material into the design he had created. A laser cutter reduced the raw material and a router etched the curlicues and regalia. The peg looked solid and heavy. In fact it was hollow and as light as it could be, thanks to the impressive strength of its cylindrical shape. Roger intended to ensure that the neck of the socket fit on his stump as tightly as possible. He wanted the assurance of a secure and sturdy limb in addition to new tactile sensations around his erogenous zone. He realised that his socket would extend further up his leg than the extent of his penis and ensured that the anterior surface of the peg was silky smooth to prevent discomfort to his genitals.
13
Roger spend considerable time perfecting his spectacular peg leg. It was futile to polish its surface hoping to emphasise the wood’s ancient grain but he made an effort to disguise its seams. Instead of a traditional beeswax finish, Roget was tempted to use an artificial lacquer which was guaranteed to emulate it. The result was expensive and exactly the effect which lent the finished product the appearance of a well‑loved heirloom. It seemed old although it was in pristine condition.
Above all, the new wooden peg leg was the first limb which allowed him to stand at his full original height. He purchased standard aluminium axillary crutches and adjusted them to the precise length to suit his refound height. It was thanks to Odd that Roger rediscovered the benefit of being tall. Odd stood just shy of two metres and Roger doubted he could ever manipulate a peg leg which allowed the two amputee friends to stand face to face. But to their mutual pleasure, they succeeded in accomplishing exactly that. Odd stood with his legs spread, arms crossed over his chest and grinned at his legless friend balancing on a single magnificent traditional wooden seaman’s peg leg. Oftentimes he wore his left knee‑length artificial stump which provided some visual balance. Although Roger manipulated his crutches with grace, his new height brought a new challenge. For many weeks, his progress was slowed by the need to pay more attention to his gait until finally, the ability to swing his massive peg leg from his crotch and swing his body forward between his long crutches ensured that he was as agile as the next man.
The two men both felt they had achieved one of life’s goals. They had the stumps which they had lusted after and had succeeded beyond all expectation in replacing them with spectacular peg legs. Roger indulged himself in his future as a legless cripple alongside his handsome young admirer friend who felt complete at last with one of the longest peg legs a cripple ever wore.
INDULGENCE
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