T W O K I D S
A surreal tale of disability by strzeka
Rory crossed off another day on the nineteen seventy-five wall calendar in his bedroom. He had written the numbers from a hundred to zero through the three months leading to the day when his schooldays officially ended. Day Nineteen. The finals were over. Rory had taken them seriously unlike a few of his classmates and expected decent results for maths and physics. He knew now that he had made a few errors on his French paper. The worst being that he realised he had misused the anterior past tense instead of the imperfect. Maybe he would get sympathy points for even knowing the anterior tense. The results would be published in late August but he had no enthusiasm for creating another countdown to that date.
He sat on the edge of his bed and stuffed a pair of black lace-up shoes onto his rigid feet. He left the white trainers he had been wearing all weekend under the chair. They ought to be out of the way if his mum vacuumed later on. He got up and went downstairs for some breakfast.
– Oh, you’re up. I was going to give you a call. What do you want for breakfast?
– Is there any müesli?
– There should be some left.
Mrs Rees took the packet of müesli from a cupboard and turned to pour her handsome boy a mug of breakfast tea.
– What are you going to do this week? Anything interesting planned?
– No, not yet. I dare say we’ll think of something. I don’t know if Nick has any ideas. We might go ice skating or bowling.
– It’s funny that the school doesn’t just give you the rest of the time off, especially since they let you out as soon as the register is taken.
– You don’t say. The head explained it to us. It’s to do with maintaining the annual attendance records. The council needs full attendance for the entire year so the school gets its funding. Or something. I don’t mind checking in and then being allowed to go somewhere, even if we don’t actually go.
– Keep an eye on Nick if you go skating. He’d have a nasty tumble if he fell.
– He ought to be used to it by now.
Nick’s nose had been broken three times since he was fifteen, simply because it was so difficult for him to break his fall. His arms were not responsive enough. The result was a fascinating profile which paradoxically suited his features. Nick’s four upper front teeth were implants as a result of his first serious fall. He explained to anyone who asked that he had lost them playing ice hockey when the puck hit him square in the mouth. It was a dubious explanation. No-one believed Nick played ice hockey with his hooks.
– Just don’t go crazy. I know you enjoy it but remember not everyone is as good as you.
– Well, I know that. Don’t fuss!
Ice hockey and skating in general was uniquely suited to Rory’s disability. When the entire team was outfitted with iceskates firmly holding their ankles rigid, his own artificial legs posed no barrier to success. His teammates were on the same level as he was, except he was supremely accustomed to it.
Rory was born with a rare birth defect, hemimelia. His tibia, his shin bones, had not formed. His curled and useless lower legs were amputated at ten months. Eighteen years later, Rory had short stumps below his knees and wore clunky one-piece prosthetic legs. They were made of some mysterious composite material, formed into an approximation of a teenager’s legs, beat up and scuffed, rigid from his knees to the end of his toeless feet. They were held onto his legs by a leather strap above his kneecaps. Rory had never known anything else and regarded his artificial legs much as everyone else regarded a pair of shoes. He put them on in the morning and took them off at night.
His best friend Nick had lost his hands at the age of three in a motorway pile-up which had killed his mother. His father remarried after a year. He had formed a relationship with a nurse who attended to his maimed son. The boy was long since home having fully recovered, using body-operated plastic claws for everything a toddler needed to do. Teenage Nick favoured split hooks but wore artificial hands to school. They looked less intimidating. They were as scratched and worn as Rory’s legs.
Rory finished his tea, collected his satchel and poked at the sandwiches his mum gave him.
– Liver sausage. Your favourite.
– Great! Thanks mum. See you tonight.
Rory left and his mother prepared herself for her day. She was due to meet an author for a working lunch which her publisher had arranged. The author had flown from Marseille to meet them and the meeting would be invaluable before Mrs Rees, Johanna to her friends, began the work of translating the new work from French to English. She had already read the book and had a few questions for the author regarding the Maghrebi slang featured in her dialogue. She envisaged a close relationship forming before her translation was finished and she was unsure which English accent she should use to emulate the Arabic-derived slang.
Rory walked to the tube station and looked around for Nick. They usually managed to meet somewhere in the station. There were only six trains an hour on this branch of the line so the same train usually took quite a few pupils to school. Nick appeared and saluted his best mate.
– Another week. Two more. It won’t be long now. Hey! Are you going skating this afternoon?
– I don’t know. I’ll go if everyone else is. Funny, my mum told me to watch out for you in case you fall over and hurt yourself.
– Too late for that, matey. What did you do at the weekend? Anything sexy?
– Naah. Just the usual.
– Seven wanks and a blow job.
– More or less, without the blow job.
– Should get that seen to. I went to Kew with my camera.
– You should have called. I’d have come along.
– I thought of it but it’s pretty boring standing around while I get intimate with the flowers.
Nick was a great fan of macro photography and often waited until a plant he was focussing on was visited by a bee or some other insect. It did not make for a sociable outing.
– See anything interesting?
– Well, I took some close-ups of a spider wrapping up a fly for dinner later. I wasn’t there long. The weather sort of turned rainy.
– Yeah.
They entered the school playground and went over to the bike sheds where the seniors went for a smoke out of sight of the staff room. There were a few of their classmates hanging around, all of them complaining to one degree or another about the purposelessness of still having to attend school.
– Anyone want to go skating this afternoon? Me and Nick are going. Probably.
– Where are you going? Richmond or Queensway?
– Queensway. Might sneak into town after that for something to eat.
– Right. I’ll come with you. Any excuse to get away from here.
The school bell rang and two hundred pupils made their way inside to their classrooms. Teachers checked the register and everyone made their way to assembly where they sang a hymn accompanied by an out-of-tune piano, listened to a five sentence religious tract and waited a minute for the non-Christian pupils to enter to hear the school announcements.
– There are no announcements today.
The headmaster turned and swept out, black cloak billowing behind him. He was not nicknamed Batman for nothing.
The sixth formers mumbled amongst themselves about how they were going to survive the morning. Some would sit in their form room reading, others intended going to the library where they could make more noise.
The minutes dragged by. Everyone went outside for a quarter of an hour at ten forty-five. Two of their classmates, Kevin and Barbara, said they would come ice skating after lunch. Rory was pleased. He liked Barbara. She was one of the few people who had never teased him about his legs or called him childish names. Kevin was alright. Not the brightest spark but he was friendly enough. They agreed to meet at the school gates at half past twelve, after lunch.
They walked at Rory’s pace to the tube station. Once aboard the train, they looked around at other passengers, wondering about their lives and jobs. Suddenly, on the cusp of adulthood, older people became visible as if for the first time. They themselves might soon be one of the anonymous faces on the morning tube, leading adult lives and doing grown-up things. It was both intimidating and exciting.
Rory waited for the lift at Queensway with Barbara. Nick and Kevin raced each other up the endless spiral staircase to the street. Rory had once climbed up the stairs on his unforgiving prosthetic legs and the leather knee strap chafed his right leg so badly he had to stop wearing the leg for three weeks and use crutches. He would not make the same mistake twice.
They bought tickets for a two hour session and collected their ice skates. Kevin was a helpful soul to have with them. He offered to help both of his amputee mates. Under normal circumstances, Nick would have worn hooks and been capable of tying his laces himself but his fake hands were not suitable for the purpose.
– Do you want me to change your shoes, Rory?
– OK, since you’re already on the floor. Thanks, Kevin.
It was perfectly possible for Rory to lean down to remove his shoes and replace them with the skates but it was much easier to sit back and let Kevin see to it. He had to shove the skates on with quite a bit of force. Rory should have asked for a size bigger. They all tottered out onto the ice and joined the flow of other skaters. Rory twisted around and skated backwards for a short distance and made his way into the centre of the rink. He ran towards the top end of the ice and turned to brake, sending up a spray of ice. He turned and sprinted to the other end and turned in a sharp curve back into the main circulatory traffic of beginners and amateurs. One or two of them thought he was showing off. Rory was simply enjoying the sensation of using his own legs to move quickly, to run and enjoy the pleasure of speed. He could feel the surface of the ice in his stumps and loved his control and power over it. His stumps took a pounding and might ache tomorrow but it was worth it.
Rory danced with Barbara in the middle of the rink. They held hands and Rory swung his classmate around in a breathtaking arc, first to the left and then to the right. Spectators surrounding the rink watched them with a little jealousy but mostly with admiration. Rory was grateful to Barbara for the chance to practise moves which required more skill rather than speed and force. After a few minutes, Barbara asked to stop. Rory was not disappointed. He had had enough and had his fix. Kevin and Nick continued to circle. Barbara and Rory bought some cokes and sat down to watch the others.
– That was a lot of fun. Thank you for dancing with me, Rory. I hoped you would. It’s why I wanted to come.
– Really? You just wanted to dance with me?
– Well, that was one of the reasons. I love to see you skating because it’s the one time no-one would ever think you’re disabled. It makes you look so skilful.
– I suppose I am pretty good on the ice. My knees take a bit of a beating, though. I’ll probably be crawling around tomorrow.
– I’m sorry it’s so difficult for you, Rory. You always make such an effort to keep up with everyone. It can’t be easy.
– It’s the way I am. Don’t feel sorry for me. I shouldn’t have said anything.
– Oh, it’s not that. It’s just that you have to make such an effort to be like anyone else. It’s not fair and it is very impressive. You and Nick. Think of what he goes through to keep up with everyone else.
– Yeah. Nick’s great. I’m glad I lost my legs and not my hands.
– Isn’t it amazing that our class has two boys who use artificial limbs? It’s so unusual. I’m glad we’ve always been in the same class. It just shows everyone else that being disabled, er…
– Isn’t really a disability at all? Is that what you were going to say?
– Ha! Yes, I suppose I was.
– Well, it’s just perfectly normal for me and Nick. We don’t remember ever being any different. Nick manages great when he wears his hooks. His fake hands are a bit clunky but he knows we’ll always help him.
– Why does he use them? Has he ever told you?
– What, his hands instead of hooks? I think he doesn’t want to scare other people. His hands do look less shocking than a pair of steel hooks, although if you go round to his house at the weekend, he always has his hooks on.
– He ought to wear them to school. We’re used to the idea he’s lost his hands.
– It’s to stop the younger kids calling him Captain Hook and all that.
– They’re such little shits. I’m sorry you have to put up with it.
– Thank you, Barbara. It’s just something that we’ll always have to put up with. No getting around it.
Kevin and Nick clomped over and joined them.
– What are we going to do next? Home or town? Shall we go to Soho and see what’s going on?
– I’d love to come with you but I have to be home soon. It’s my little sister’s birthday party and I simply have to be there.
– I’ll go back with you, Barb. My legs ache so much I can’t face walking around town.
– That leaves me and you, Rory. Do your legs ache?
– I don’t know the meaning of the word. Alright. Are we done here? Shall we go?
They returned the skates, put their street shoes on and parted ways outside the rink. Barbara and Kevin disappeared into the underground. Rory and Nick waited for the first bus which would take them down Oxford Street. A seventy-three pulled up and they boarded. Rory paid. The conductor was chatty.
– Five new pence please, son. Where’re you getting off?
– We want to walk around Soho.
– Do you, now? Well, I reckon you’d do best to get off at Oxford Circus and walk back from there. I’ll tell you when we get there.
They had been to the centre of town often enough to recognise Oxford Circus anyway. They rode past it one stop and jumped off at some traffic lights.
– Let’s go down there, off the main street.
They crossed, dodging taxis, and walked along Poland Street. They spotted the King’s Arms pub.
– Shall we have a cider? Live it up a little?
– Yeah. Have you got any money? I only brought two quid out.
– I can lend you some. I had a tenner when we left.
– Great.
The boys poked their heads into the dingy pub and unintentionally entered one of the more notorious gay pubs. The man behind the bar sashayed up to them.
– Hello boys. What would you like?
– Can we have two pints of cider, please?
The bartender tossed his head and turned to find some cider. One of the customers decided to act on his impulses and approached from behind. He placed his hands on the boys’ shoulders.
– Let me pay for these. I’m sure young men like yourselves would rather save your money for something nicer.
They both turned to look at him in alarm. He looked normal enough. A nice face and a friendly smile.
– Come and sit at my table and we can chat.
Rory looked at Nick and shrugged.
– Alright. Thank you.
– My name’s Lawrence, by the way. Let’s go over there.
The bartender watched Lawrence snatch the boys and pursed his lips.
– Oh! What happened to your hands?
– Lost ’em in a car accident when I was little.
Nick gripped his glass between both hands and sipped at the cider. Rory caught his eye and grinned conspiratorially.
– I haven’t seen you here before. Do you live near here?
– No, we’re just in town for the day.
Lawrence asked a few more questions and received vague answers. He was becoming convinced that the boys had wandered in by accident and were not looking for action after all. But they were pleasant enough company. Good-looking kids. They enjoyed their drinks and Lawrence said he needed to go to the toilet and would bring them some more cider.
– I think we’re in the wrong place. Quick! Let’s go before he gets back.
The bartender watched them leave and snorted. Lawrence looked around for them.
– I think you must have scared them off. Shame that.
– I think he was hitting on you, Nick. I reckon that was a gay bar for homos. The bloke behind the bar was funny peculiar too.
– Yeah. Well, I shan’t be going there anymore. You know what? I think Soho is further on. Let’s go down there and have a look.
They turned into Marlborough Street and deeper into Soho. They looked at the ads outside smutty cinemas, at the exotic vegetables outside tiny greengrocer shops and noticed the foreign faces of passers-by. It was like suddenly being in a completely different town. A good smell wafted along the street from the open door of a Chinese restaurant with a big red dragon hanging over the pavement.
– I think this is what we came for. Shall we have some Chinese?
– Yup. I’m starving.
Rory made a good effort to eat his meal with chopsticks but gave up the effort halfway through. Nick had no intention of even trying. A waiter brought a new bowl of steaming rice to their table and out of politeness, they did their best to eat it all. Sated, they paid and left, wondering what else they could do before rush hour started. They wanted to avoid the peak hour fares on the Underground. They wandered the narrow streets, looking in shop windows. Nick pointed out a huge black built-up boot in the window of a shoemaker specialising in orthopaedic footwear.
– How would you like one of those, Rory?
– I think I’ll stick with what I have, thanks.
– You could get two and be seven foot tall.
– Forget it.
Two shops down was a manufacturer of bespoke prosthetic limbs. The window displayed only sun‑faded brochures dotted with dead insects. It was dusty and smeared and there was no light on inside. Possibly gone out of business through lack of demand. It might have been interesting to go in to discover exactly how bespoke it was. Its neighbour appeared at first sight to be a toyshop but it sold only puppets, some of them quite large marionettes. A beefy man with a bald head called out to them from across the street.
– Come and see our matinee, boys. You’ll see things you’ve never seen before in your lives. See Sybil make love with a snake. Come on, lads. You’ll never forget it.
– I think we’ll give it a miss, thanks.
– This is getting creepy. Shall we find a station and go home?
They walked a little further and came to Charing Cross Road. Leicester Square station’s roundel beckoned from a distant corner and they made their way towards the snug familiarity of a tube station and a train back to the suburbs.
An Awakening
The weekend crept slowly closer. Rory crossed off more numbers on his calendar. Day Fifteen. Even after school finished they would still be caught in a frustrating limbo waiting to hear confirmation of college and university places, waiting for the exams results which would dictate their immediate futures. Some of their friends had arranged to work full-time at their Saturday jobs for the time being. It was better to be selling light bulbs and batteries in Woolworth’s all day for a couple of quid than to be stuck at home tearing your hair out. Rory and Nick had never had Saturday jobs and had always relied on pocket money which their parents gave them. Rory got a respectable fiver from both parents every week and often saved about half of it. Nick got a regular two quid and extra if he asked for it for something worthwhile. Neither of them smoked but Rory occasionally liked to buy a flagon of cider which their inner group of pals shared in the park at sundown. It was fun to hold the heavy bottle in the crook of your arm with your middle finger through the ring at the neck and swig the sweet cider. It took two to help Nick unless he was wearing hooks. Such a trivial pleasure but one which all of them would remember down the years. Stolen evenings with schoolmates when life was simple.
Johanna Rees had made a good start on translating the French novel and had decided to exchange the Maghrebi slang of Marseille with the Black Caribbean jargon of London which she knew was in general use. On Friday morning she had an idea.
– Rory, are there any black students at your school who use slang to talk to each other? I mean, so the others can’t understand?
– You mean in our year? Yeah, I suppose so. They know the lingo. Do the jive.
– Alright, none of that here, please. Are you friends with them?
– Well, sort of. I mean, we grew up together, didn’t we? Why?
– Do you think you could invite one or two of them round this afternoon after school for a couple of hours? I want to run some of the expressions in my novel past them and see if they have any black equivalents I can use.
– I can ask them. This afternoon? How about tomorrow or Sunday? I reckon they’ve got other things planned for tonight.
– Would you ask them anyway? Tell them that I’d like to ask them about their dialect or slang for a novel I’m translating. Would you do that for me?
– Alright.
– Thanks ever so much.
Rory forgot all about it until break time. He noticed three of his dark-skinned classmates standing together and went over to talk to Jamal. He explained the problem and asked if any of them might like to help out. It would probably be fun for a couple of hours.
– That’s sort of what we should be doin’. Getting our word out there. Sure, I’ll help your mom. I can come round tomorrow morning if that’s cool.
– Yeah, I’m sure it is. Thanks Jamal. You remember where I live?
– Sure.
Jamal and Rory had visited each other’s homes many times when they were younger and more innocent.
Rory went back to his own little group. The chief topic of conversation was the previous evening’s Monty Python. They were soon back in the school library, out of the way with little to do but hostage to bureaucracy.
Five of the guys arranged to make a detour via the pub after school. They were all old enough to buy a pint and young enough for one or two to be quite enough. They watched Nick gripping his pint with his beat-up wooden hands. They had all seen them hundreds of times but the novelty never wore off. Nick was completely nonchalant about them while his mates often wondered what life must be like when you had no hands. How did he wank, for one thing? None of them dared to ask. Nick would have told them that he used his hooks for that particular function. His fake hands were not versatile enough.
After an hour, Nick said goodbye to his mates and asked if Rory wanted to join him.
– Mum and dad are out until late. We could have a game of Monopoly or something.
– Alright. We could do that. Is there anything to eat?
– We’ll find something.
Two pints of beer had its effect by the time they reached Nick’s home. Neither of them wanted to play Monopoly. Rory followed Nick to his bedroom. He took off his jeans and doffed his legs.
– You look sexy without your legs on.
– Ha! And you look sexy without your hands. Come on! Show me your stumps, you cripple!
Nick laughed and pulled his shirt over his head. He shook his arm sockets off and shrugged the harness, letting the fake hands drop to the floor.
– Take my T-shirt off, you legless spaz! And get naked.
Nick pushed Rory further onto the bed with his thighs and fell on top of his old friend. They laughed and wrestled, almost naked. Nick held Rory’s face between his stumps and stared at his friend’s handsome face. He leaned forward and kissed him. Rory’s eyes opened wide in surprise but Nick’s tongue in his mouth felt exciting and sexy. Rory kissed back. The stumps gripped his back and Nick squeezed tighter, gyrating his groin into Rory’s. Their erections grew stronger. Rory clasped his leg stumps around Nick’s thighs and squeezed him closer.
– Get my pants off me!
Rory pulled Nick’s underwear off and then his own. Only Nick’s T-shirt and socks remained. Nick fell back onto Rory’s chest, licking the erect nipples, sucking and tonguing. Rory arched his back, feeling the power building in his penis. It pushed against Nick’s and they squirmed to force the twitching cocks against each other. Nick put his stumps alongside Rory’s head and gasped when he ejaculated onto his mate’s groin. It felt never ending. His whole being released itself. The pressure and sensation of Nick’s body triggered Rory’s own relentless ejaculation. His stumps twitched as his brain sent endorphins careening into non-existent muscles.
Both boys held each other, staring into each other’s eyes. They broke into nervous laughter.
– Well, that was a surprise.
– I can’t talk.
They lay together for a couple of minutes until Nick pushed himself up. Their genitals and bellies were slimy with sperm.
– We need to clean ourselves up a bit.
– Go and get a towel from the bathroom. You’d better run it under the hot tap first.
Nick returned with a sodden bath towel. They used both ends of it simultaneously to wipe themselves.
– I’m sorry, Rory. I shouldn’t have done that.
– No. It’s alright. It was just a surprise. It was good, wasn’t it?
It was good. The boys dressed, Rory helping Nick to get his hands and shirt on. There was a sticky mess on the duvet but it would dry. Rory left his legs off and stubbed around on his knees. A little later, Nick pulled some cheese and tomatoes out of the fridge and Rory made them some sandwiches using a kitchen chair as a table. The effect of their beers was wearing off and they wanted more but Nick’s parents rarely bought alcohol and there was none to be found. The urge passed and the boys cuddled on the sofa until the sound of a key in the door announced the return of Nick’s parents.
– Hello, Rory! Didn’t expect to find you here. What have you been up to? Have you had anything to eat?
– We had some sandwiches, mum. We played a game of Monopoly and watched the telly.
– Do you want anything to eat now?
– No thanks. I ought to be getting home soon. I dare say mum has some tea waiting.
– Alright, if you’re sure. Where are your legs, Rory? Shall I fetch them?
– They’re in Nick’s bedroom.
Nick’s mum went to fetch the prostheses and noticed the large dark patch on the duvet. She was not a naïve woman and recognised it for what it was. The boys had had sex. That was why the legs were in here. She was surprised but not shocked. Nick had never had a girlfriend which was easy to blame on his amputee status. Something else was going on. She decided not to confront the boys but she would have a gentle word with Nick when the time seemed right. She glanced at her expression in Nick’s mirror and carried the legs by the knee straps into the living room where the boys were chatting with her husband about the weekend’s upcoming football fixtures.
– Here you are, Rory. These look like they’ve taken a bit of a beating.
– I know. I’m due for a new pair in a couple of months and I’m going to get some with a short socket and steel rods with feet attached.
– That sounds very mechanical.
– I suppose so but they should be a lot stronger than these and there won’t be any surface to get scuffed.
– Adult legs.
– Yeah, they will be.
Rory had donned his legs and stood.
– Thanks for keeping Nick company, Rory. Give my best to your mum. I’ll see you out.
Rory arrived home shortly after nine.
– Where have you been? Rory, I wish you’d let us know if you’re going to be out.
– I’m sorry, mum. I was round Nick’s and time sort of got away from us. Nick’s mum says hello.
– Alright. There’s some macaroni and cheese for supper if you want it.
– Yes please.
– Sit tight. I’ll get it.
Mrs Rees reheated the meal in a frying pan.
– Ready! Come and get it! Did you ask your friends about the translation for me?
– Oh, yeah. I did. Jamal said he’d come round tomorrow morning.
– Oh super! I haven’t seen Jamal for such a long time. Did he say what time?
– No.
– Well, let’s hope he remembers. How’s the macaroni?
– ‘S alright. Thanks mum.
Jamal turned up at a quarter past ten the following morning. Mrs Rees opened the door to him and saw the six foot two man which the Jamal she remembered had become.
– Hello Jamal! It’s lovely to see you again. Come in, do. Thank you ever so much for helping out. Let’s go in the kitchen and the others won’t get in our way.
Rory poked his head into the hall and greeted his classmate.
– Now you stay in there and keep yourself occupied for an hour and let me and Jamal get some work done, understand?
– Yes mum.
– Sit down, Jamal. Shall we dive straight into it? Let me tell you a bit about the story and you can get an idea.
Johanna Rees explained the premise of the story and how it was set in present day Marseille where there was a large immigrant population from Algeria who had created their own slang from a mixture of French and Arabic. What she wanted to do was substitute another slang based on English and the only one she could think of was Caribbean slang because England did not have immigrants from Algeria. Jamal said he understood the situation well enough. Johanna had a long list of interjections and sentences which the French author had used. She had explained their meaning to Johanna when they met.
– Here’s the first one. How would you say ‘The police are coming’?
– Da pig be comin.
– And ‘Have you got the money?’
– You got da chips?
Johanna wrote down Jamal’s answers, occasionally asking for clarification, frequently looking at the young man sitting opposite and loving the way the little boy she remembered had become this imposing man. He was the same age as Rory but was far more worldly and mature. She felt an animal attraction stirring and suppressed it. It was not appropriate.
They worked their way through nearly a hundred phrases, laughing at some, uncovering insights into the workings of language. Jamal was enjoying himself. It was a rare occurrence these days for him to be in a white family’s home and even rarer to feel that he was the one with something to offer.
– That’s all of them, Jamal.
– I hope I was able to help, Miss Rees.
– You have been a tremendous help. Thank you so much. You know you’ll get a credit in the book, don’t you?
– Really? My name in a book?
– Yes, of course. It would be a rotten author who didn’t give credit to the people who helped her. Shall we have some coffee? I wonder if Rory wants some? He’s been very quiet. I’m impressed. Rory!
– What’s up?
– We’re ready. I was going to make coffee. Do you want some?
– Yes please.
Rory sat on a third stool and arranged his feet. Jamal looked at his classmate and wondered again what it would be like to fuck a cripple. He could look at the stubs and maybe touch the fake limbs. It was the horniest thing he could think of.
They drank coffee and chatted about life after university. Mrs Rees reassured Jamal that not getting a place was not the end of the world. She had been told by her sixth form mistress that she had no aptitude for languages and to concentrate on something more practical. Five years later, she had become an accredited translator and always believed school teachers knew nothing about their kids.
– But I have to leave you. I need to get these preliminary texts in the post. Jake! Get your shoes on! We’re going. Jamal, it was lovely to see you again and I do wish you would visit more often. Here’s something for your help this morning.
Johanna Rees handed him an envelope which contained two five pound notes. It was the best hourly rate which Jamal had ever earned.
– Thank you ma’am.
Mr Rees stood waiting for his wife as she slipped on her shoes and they promised to be back before two. They murmured to each other and left.
– Did you get everything translated?
– Sure. It was easy. I just had to say things like how the gang would say it. Rory, I’ve always wanted to ask you one thing.
– What’s that?
– I want to see you without your fake legs.
– You want me to take my legs off so you can see my stumps?
– Yeah, that’s what I want.
– OK. Let me take my jeans off first.
Rory let them drop to the floor and sat on the sofa to work them over his rigid feet. Jamal stood watching closely, his erection growing in his loose tracksuit trousers. Rory pushed the leather straps off his knees with his thumbs and moved his lower legs to one side. Jamal kneeled between the stumps.
– I’m gonna take your pants off, man. I wanna suck your dick.
Surprised again by a sexual advance from one of his friends, Rory lifted his hips with his hands and Jamal pulled his underwear over his stumps and let it fall. He sniffed Rory’s crotch and pulled back Rory’s foreskin. His own erection was trapped inside his pants and he pulled them down to his knees. His large, soft hands enveloped Rory’s turgid penis and he brought his face closer. His lips tasted the tip of Rory’s glans and his hands gripped the remnants below Rory’s knees. Jamal lunged and took Rory’s entire penis into his mouth and throat. His own penis pulsed with excitement. Jamal sucked and tongued the tool. Rory tilted his head back and everything blanked from his mind except for the sensations emanating from his penis and stumps. He held Jamal’s head until he ejaculated. Jamal swallowed the warm spunk and smacked his lips. He wiped his mouth with a hand. Rory fell back against the sofa and Jamal reached into his tracksuit to jerk off. He stood up awkwardly and went to the bathroom to complete the act. Rory heard the tap running and Jamal gurgling.
– Alright, man. Time to go. Don’t talk about this.
– No.
Jamal let himself out and Rory slowly dressed. He was confused but not unhappy.
Day Fourteen. The usual Monday morning bragging about who had had the best weekend. Nick glanced at Rory and chuckled. Rory smiled back, saying nothing. He had learned something new from Jamal which he wanted to try out on Nick when they had the chance. The two amputees had always been natural allies and friends. It seemed natural enough for them to explore sex together too. Neither of them had ever expected to find a girlfriend because of their disabilities but Jamal had opened up an avenue for Rory which he had not thought about. Some people found his stumps erotic. And similarly, Nick’s forearm stubs might also arouse some people. He wanted to tell Nick about his discovery but did not want to compromise Jamal. Maybe if they could find another person who professed an interest in stumps and artificial limbs, Nick would get the message. Rory sat with a group of classmates in the library, aimlessly doodling in an old exercise book until he noticed that a lot of what he had drawn resembled erect penises. He slammed the book shut, put it under a copy of The Economist and made an attempt at reading that instead.
Rory suddenly remembered the pub they had visited on their last outing was for queers. Maybe they could pay it another visit in the hope of finding someone their own age who had a bit more knowledge. He might be able to answer some questions and help give them some idea about male sex. He got up and rocked over to Nick, who was pawing through a copy of Stern, looking at the photos.
– Do you want to go in to town with me this afternoon?
– What? Are you going skating again?
– No. Do you remember that pub we went to, the one with the…
– Shh! Yes. So what?
– I want to go there again.
– What for?
– I want to talk to someone. There are things I don’t understand.
– So what’s new? Alright. I’m not doing anything. And I’ve got a fiver with me this time.
– Oh good. It’s your round. So shall we go into town?
Nick looked around at his bored classmates and nodded.
School lunch was mash and carrots with mystery meat. Nick poked the meat into a roll and glued it with mashed potato. He altered the position of the fork with his left hand and gulped it down. There was no taste. The potatoes had been cooked without salt, the meat had been braised almost to liquid. A sliver of gristle remained and he spat it onto his plate.
– They say we should eat this because there are starving children in the world. If they have meals like this, I’m not surprised.
– We’ll have something in town. Go to a Wimpy or something.
– Yeah.
They waited long enough to be included in the afternoon register and, grabbing their satchels, made their way downstairs and out into the still exciting normal world. Rory bought two off-peak return tickets and they sat facing each other on the train. Nick was looking forward to having a hamburger and a beer. Rory was hoping to find a friendly homo he could discuss things with.
They rode as far as Oxford Circus. Nick helped propel Rory up the last stairs to the street, wooden hands poking him in the lower back. Stairs were always a challenge. Rory was slightly out of breath at the top.
– Are you hungry now or shall we have a cider first?
– Let’s have a cider. I don’t care. We can have a Chinese later.
– We could do that.
They walked along Oxford Street, trying to remember where they had been last. They were not paying attention to their route before, hoping merely to stumble upon something interesting.
– This looks sort of familiar. Let’s go down here.
It was Poland Street. The Kings Arms was visible on the left. A couple of gnarly tables holding overflowing ashtrays but without chairs stood outside.
– This is the one. Are you ready? They’ll be on us like flies to a honey pot.
– Isn’t that bees? Go on, go in.
It was dark inside. The tables nearest the door were empty. There seemed to be people further on. The familiar bartender looked at the boys and recognised them. He swished to the front of the bar as well as an overweight male can swish and pursed his lips at them.
– Haven’t seen you for a while. What would you boys like?
– Can we have two pints of cider, please?
They took their drinks and carried them to a table next to the window.
– Rory, can you do me a favour?
– Sure. What?
– I brought my hooks with me. I’ve been carrying them for a few weeks just in case I need them. Can you unscrew my hands and put my hooks on?
– Yeah. Where are they? In your satchel?
– Yeah. I can get them.
– Don’t bother. Put your arm out.
– Oh, that one goes on my other arm.
Rory put the hook on the table and fished around for the right one. Nick described how to disengage the control cable and was shortly wearing steel hooks. Rory put the wooden hands into Nick’s satchel and appraised his friend’s new appearance.
– You look older somehow, more mature. Does that sound stupid? The hooks are sort of much more adult than your hands. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because you’ve always worn the hands at school.
– I prefer the hooks. Believe it or not, they’re more useful than the hands. I only wear them because they don’t look as shocking as these.
– They do look impressive. They make you look older.
– Yeah, you said. Well, nothing wrong with that.
Nick opened his hook and carefully gripped the bottom of his glass of cider.
– Cheers!
Someone from the gloom was watching them. Apart from their youth and handsome features, Nick’s hooks had attracted the attention of a thirty-year old man who had been sharing a table with two other customers. He approached them slowly and stood a few feet away.
– Hello! I’ve not seen you in here before. I wonder if I could join you for a few moments?
Rory and Nick looked at each other and at the bearded stranger.
– I suppose so.
– That’s very kind of you. I’m a photographer, you see, and when I noticed your hooks, I immediately thought of asking if I could take some photos of you.
– Why’s that? What’s so special about my hooks?
– Well, you see, I work for a company which specialises in photographs of men with physical disabilities. There is a market for that sort of thing, you see. And I was wondering if you would let me take a few shots of you, but not here. I have a studio just down the road, if you wouldn’t mind posing for me there for a short while.
– What sort of photographs do you mean?
– Well, if you could take your clothes off and pretend to hold your cock. That sort of thing.
– I don’t know. Rory, what do you think?
– I’m not sure. Is it only hooks you’re interested in?
– No. Any kind of disability, really.
– Well in that case – I’m wearing two artificial legs. Is that any good to you?
– Really? That would be fantastic. I can pay you a hundred pounds an hour, each, of course. Are you interested in a photo shoot? Like I said, my studio is only just down the road. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Alan Jenner. Maybe you’ve heard of Jenner Photos?
– No, sorry, I haven’t.
Rory shook his head.
– When do you want to take these photos?
– Oh, we could go as soon as you’ve finished your drinks, if you like. Take your time. What do you think? Would you like to have a photo session? It’s the road to fame!
– Nick, what do you think?
Nick looked at the expectant face of the handsome stranger and at Rory. He looked at his half drunk cider and positioned his right hook so he could pick it up. He gripped the glass and brought its rim toward his mouth, tilted the socket and gulped the liquid down.
– Ready! Let’s go!
Rory drank his own cider while Jenner returned to his table and made his excuses.
The three of them left the pub and the boys followed the photographer along Poland Street and around a corner. Jenner unlocked a door and they were faced with a long staircase to the first floor.
– Oh shit.
Nick helped Rory up the steps. Jenner held Rory’s right hand, steadying him. He was familiar with the problems faced by leg amputees. Jenner’s studio was a generous size, lit by natural light from north-facing windows. Various pieces of furniture intended as props lined one wall and a large sheet of white paper hung from the ceiling, curling onto the floor.
– Right. Shall we get started? Your name is Nick, isn’t it? Would you take your clothes off? You can leave them over there. Don’t worry. No-one can see in. What I want you to do is stand in front of the white background and masturbate with your hooks. If you stand here, I can adjust the lights.
Jenner loaded his camera with film and moved a couple of filler lights closer. He took some test shots with a Polaroid camera first, made a slight adjustment to a light and asked Nick to masturbate. Nick was adept. He used his hooks for wanking at home. He had about three inches of stump, not quite long enough to be able to reach his penis comfortably. Jenner circled him, avoiding Nick’s face. Nick had an impressive erection. He held it between both hooks and opened the right one. He inserted it into his urethra. Jenner approached for close-ups. Rory watched with interest. He had never seen Nick wanking before and had wondered if he used his hooks.
– OK, take a break for a minute while I change film.
– I have a pair of wooden hands with me as well if you’d like to take shots of those too.
– They sound interesting. Let’s shoot this roll first and then we can change to hands.
Jenner continued shooting, making sure he captured the entirety of Nick’s prosthetic arms, the hooks and the uncut erect penis.
– That’s ready, thanks. If your friend would like to come over – sorry, I didn’t get your name.
– Rory.
– OK, Rory. I want to photograph your legs while you jerk off, so I need you to stand on a platform so I can shoot from below.
He rolled a low wooden platform over, not unlike a podium at a sports venue, and locked the wheels.
– Can you climb up to the top and I’ll start shooting when you’re more erect, OK? Use just the one hand and try not to block the view from the front. That’s good. Keep doing that.
Jenner circled again, making sure at least one of Rory’s artificial legs was included in every shot.
– I have an idea. Nick, would you agree to remove your arms and wank Rory? Is that OK, Rory?
– Yeah. I don’t mind.
– Do you need some help, Nick?
– No thanks. I can do this. OK. Where do you want me?
– Kneel on the lower platform and use your stumps to hold Rory’s cock, OK? Then if you can jerk him off, that would be great.
Nick did as requested. Rory grinned at him. They were having the time of their lives. Nick’s stumps gripped Rory’s dick and Jenner came in close to capture every detail. Nick’s stumps were covered in dark hair, making a fine contrast with Rory’s glistening glans. Jenner finished a third roll and asked if he could shoot a fourth, with Nick wearing wooden hands and servicing Rory. They both shrugged their consent. Nick held out his sockets for Rory while his terminals were converted from hooks to hands.
– Try doing what you were doing before, Nick. Rory, turn this way a little.
Jenner shot from below, catching Rory’s artificial legs and Nick’s artificial arm working Rory’s cock. Both boys had insistent erections and were close to climax. The inevitable happened and Rory shot sperm onto Nick’s socket. Jenner came very close and took shots of the glob of semen dribbling along Nick’s arm, parallel with the control cable.
– I think that’s all I need for today so you can dress now.
Nick held Rory’s hips as he climbed off the platform and Rory helped Nick dress. Jenner checked his watch and estimated that he owed the boy seventy-five pounds each. He opened a drawer in his workbench, took out a cashbox and extracted the amount. He found a couple of business cards in a drawer and went over to the boys.
– We’ve been working for forty minutes so I rounded it up a bit. Here’s seventy-five quid each and if you’re interested in coming in again, just give me a call and we can arrange something. There might be other people here too. You never know.
– Thanks very much. Where are these photos going to be published?
– I send them to West Germany where they are syndicated so it’s unlikely anyone will recognise you. They often crop the heads off anyway.
– Good. Well, maybe we’ll be in touch.
They shook hands and Nick descended the stairs in front of Rory, ready to break his fall if his feet slipped. Back on the street, they blinked in the bright sunlight and looked around.
– What shall we do now? Fancy a Chinese?
– Yeah. Let’s go to that dragon place again.
This time they could afford to eat what they wanted and not what they could afford.
The boys returned home in the early evening. Neither of them spoke of the photo session nor of their recurring homosexual encounters but a change in perception had occurred and both of them felt more comfortable with seeing male nakedness and touching another man’s erection. There was no harm in it. They had been lucky to be noticed by Jenner. And lucky that Nick had been wearing conspicuous steel hooks instead of his hands which might not have been as obvious in the gloom.
The countdown through single figures continued. Tentative plans were made about what to do on the last day, most of them involving sitting in a pub. Rory was wary of getting too tipsy. He relied on his sense of balance far more than any of his schoolmates to simply walk. He owned several walking sticks but was extremely reluctant to use one at school although he liked the feel of a stick in his hand.
The last day of school came at last. Strangely, for a day which had been anticipated for many years, it seemed a perfectly normal day. A group of his classmates intended going into town for a Chinese and a few beers right after lunch. Rory and Nick agreed it sounded like a fun afternoon. Twenty minutes before afternoon lessons were due to begin, the class congregated outside the staffroom and knocked.
– Hello, Mr Lewis. We’ve come to say goodbye.
– That’s very thoughtful of you. Come in!
For the first and last time, the pupils entered the mysterious sanctuary where their teachers sat around relaxing and chatting and behaving like ordinary people. They looked up at the group in surprise. Rory had been chosen to speak on their behalf and had prepared a short speech thanking the staff for their patience and good humour and dedication over the years. They wished the teachers a pleasant summer break and circled the room, shaking hands and being hugged by their old teachers who had suddenly lost the power to terrorize.
– Take care, Rory. Good luck with your exam results. Come back and see us one day soon.
Tears flowed. No-one had expected that. Batman the headmaster appeared and stood by the door as they left, sharing a kind word with everyone, shaking hands and Nick’s hook, pleased to see a fine group of young adults ready for life. It was all moving and memorable.
Rory drank more than he intended and tripped twice on the way back to the tube station. In the end, he held on to Nick, their laughter echoing along the tunnels, happy simply for being happy.
Consequences
Rory had the grades from his exams he needed and started his three year linguistics course at York University. Nick had to settle for second best, not having got the grade for English Lit which he needed but had landed a place at Aberystwyth to read European History. It was a surprisingly lively campus and the town was an unexpected delight. Most of his fellow students were people who had found themselves on the Welsh coast by accident but found it much to their liking. Weekend parties were popular and Nick found himself invited somewhere every time. He explained his disability and demonstrated his hooks a hundred times and made many friends who admired his stoic acceptance of a situation none of them would want. Nick’s wooden hands were in a drawer in his bedroom at home. He had made the transition to being a hook user and had admiring friends because of it.
Jenner’s photographs of Rory and Nick were published in Germany’s Stag and Spass magazines in October. Spass used a shot of Nick’s stumps holding Rory’s glans on its cover. Both magazines had a circulation of about twenty thousand copies and another ten thousand were available as single copies in various sex stores around the country. In November, Jenner received a respectable sum of money from both publishers with a request for more images of the two amputees. Their subscribers had been impressed by the photos. He wrote to the home addresses of both boys mentioning their success and requesting them to get in touch for another shoot. Both sets of parents held the letters for their sons until they returned for a long weekend but let them know over the phone that they had post waiting for them. Not knowing who the sender was, neither boy thought about the matter any further.
They both travelled home for the Christmas break. Their parents were naturally delighted to see them and hear about how they were getting on. The boys opened the letters awaiting them and saw Jenner’s request. Rory telephoned Nick’s home. His mum answered.
– Hallo? Rory! How nice of you to call. How are you getting on? Are you home for Christmas? Just a sec and I’ll get Nick.
– Nick speaking.
– Hi! It’s Rory. Listen – did you get a letter from Jenner?
– Yeah. He wants to know if we’d be interested in another shoot.
– So what do you think? When do you go back to uni?
– After the New Year.
– Same here. We could go after Christmas. What do you think?
– Make it the twenty-ninth. The shops will be open again by then. Will you contact him and arrange it?
– Alright. I’ll do that and let you know.
Rory waited until his parents were out buying the last things needed for the Christmas meals. He found Jenner’s number on the business card he had kept in his wallet and dialled it.
– Jenner Photos.
– Oh hi. This is Rory Rees. The legless guy. You sent some mail a few weeks ago. Sorry it’s taken so long to answer.
– No problem. I guessed you might be away from home. You’ll have to give me your address at uni. How are you doing?
– Fine. I just called Nick and we’d like to come for another photo shoot on the twenty-ninth if that’s alright.
– Monday. OK, I don’t have anything booked then. I can show you the feedback I had from Germany. They would like to see you together making love. Not to put too fine a point on it, fucking each other. Are you up for it?
– I am, I suppose. I don’t know what Nick would think.
– Well, we can talk about it more when you get here. What do you think? About midday? Just ring the bell downstairs. I’ll be waiting for you. Oh, and tell Nick to wear his hooks. They were very popular. People liked seeing them touching your dick and balls.
Nick was up for it. They met up at the tube station at ten on Monday and discussed what they would and would not consent to. Rory would suck cock but Nick would not. Nick would do anal, Rory would not. Jenner should be able to get a decent variety of photographs anyway. He met them at the concealed door to his studio and again helped steady Rory on the flight of steps. The white background was in place again and a tall bedframe with a mattress draped in maroon velvet.
– Did you have a good Christmas? Glad it’s over, I dare say. Right. Well, I should tell you that the first series of photos was very popular, so much so that the publisher had to run off a second print to meet demand. That’s very unusual. I want to be honest with you, so I should also mention that Stag magazine has offered to double their fee for another series featuring you two, so I’m offering you two hundred and fifty quid an hour today. Does that sound suitable?
– That sounds like a lot of money.
– It is a good deal for young stars like yourselves. It usually takes a few years to reach that sort of pay. So, they have asked for sex shots with penetration. Are you comfortable with that?
Rory explained what each of them were prepared to do.
– That sounds fine. Take your time and enjoy yourselves. I think you’re old friends, aren’t you? You trust each other. I could see it last time. You looked comfortable with each other and it comes through in the photos. Alright, then. Shall we get started? I hope it’s not too cold in here. Nick, can you keep your hooks on, at least to start with, and if you could be under Rory, sort of submissive. Rory, take your legs off, please. We want to see some stump.
The boys stripped. The studio was cool but the lights would soon warm the place up. Nick went and sat down on the velvet sheet, Rory following on his knees. He pulled himself up and sat grinning at Nick.
– Can we do it as a sort of natural progression? Two lads get into bed together for sex, touching each other first, exploring each other’s bodies and cocks and then they kiss and lie on the bed and Rory starts to make love to Nick. If you can hold off on ejaculation, it would be good. Nick, use your hooks to hold Rory’s face and touch his body and dick. Right. I need to take a few test shots and then you can get to it.
Jenner had arranged his lighting beforehand and walked around the bed taking Polaroid shots. He was satisfied with the results and picked up his Nikon.
– Whenever you’re ready, boys.
Rory and Nick sat at ninety degree angles to each other, facing the edge of the bed. Nick touched Rory’s cheeks, covered in a handsome and fashionable dark stubble. His own blond moustache gave his profile a masculine adult aspect. Nick held Rory’s face between his hooks and leant forward to kiss his friend. Jenner leaned in close to capture their expressions and retreated to include the artificial arms.
– Hold it there, guys. I need to change the film.
He worked quickly and brought over a large pillow covered in black corduroy.
– Lean back on this if you need to. OK, carry on.
Rory lifted his left leg across Nick’s thigh so his stump was visible. Nick’s artificial arms held him tight and they continued kissing. Jenner circled for thirty seconds and called another halt. He changed a new roll of film and the boys continued tonguing each other with a hook or two in each shot. Rory pushed Nick back against the black pillow and sat on his thighs. Both stumps were visible and Jenner shot images of the juxtaposition of the stumps and Nick’s erection. Nick reached down and toyed with Rory’s handsome cock. Jenner stepped forward to focus on the steel on flesh. Rory tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Jenner caught the look of ecstasy with the last four frames.
– Hold it!
Another new roll of film. Nick continued kneading Rory’s penis with his hooks. Jenner recommenced shooting. Rory turned his body and raised his arse. Nick began to touch the anus with a hook and pulled on the skin. He slowly inserted as much of the hook as he could and Rory squirmed in pleasure.
– Do you want a condom, Nick?
– Yeah, I think I do.
– Ask Rory to help if you need it.
Jenner fetched a few tinfoil-wrapped condoms and gave one to Rory, who had sat up to embrace Nick. Rory ripped open the packet and rolled the rubber onto Nick’s cock. Nick sat looking down at his erection, arms around Rory’s neck. Rory rearranged the black corduroy pillow and lay on it, face down. Nick heaved himself to kneel with Rory’s stumps between his legs and gripped his penis, guiding its tip towards Rory’s anus. Jenner intervened quickly with a drop of baby oil and Nick pushed into Rory. They lost their virginity and the act was preserved for posterity by Jenner’s camera. Rory leaned on his elbows, rump in the air, balancing on his knees and Nick wrapped his artificial arms around Rory’s neck and fucked him. Jenner concentrated on their facial expressions, catching a shot of Nick straining so that his hooks opened near his friend’s face, Rory’s teeth bared in ecstasy.
The session ended after both boys had climaxed. Jenner handed them warm towels to clean themselves with. Rory wiped his sperm from Nick’s socket and helped him dress. Jenner gathered the eight rolls of film holding over two hundred shots and locked them away for safe-keeping until he could have them processed. He wrote two cheques for five hundred pounds and handed them over.
– I hope we’ll meet again before long. You’ve been very co-operative and easy to work with. It’s been a pleasure. I’ll let you know how the photos are received. It probably won’t be for at least two months.
– Will you write to our uni addresses rather than our home addresses?
– I’ll do that. Well, goodbye. Happy New Year!
The amputees sauntered along Oxford Street window shopping, on the look-out for something to buy in order to cash their cheques. Rory saw a pair of fur-lined gloves and they entered the shop. Rory first enquired about payment.
– I’m afraid we are not able to accept a cheque for an amount so much higher than the price of the gloves, sir.
– I suppose I’ll have to visit my bank, then.
– Yes, that would be best. Would you like us to reserve the gloves for you, sir?
– No thanks. It’ll be a while before I’m in town again but thanks.
They left and caught a train home.
Rory and Nick met again on New Year’s Eve at a former schoolmate’s home with four other old friends. They crowded into a pub among the revellers for a couple of drinks to see the new year in. They could already sense the distance between themselves and their former classmates. Rory and Nick had done a lot of growing up since leaving school and were reticent to discuss their affairs. It was an awkward evening, a little contrived and it was never repeated.
Jenner had the rolls of film processed and selected thirty of the best frames for his publisher. He negotiated an excellent price with the promise of more if another print run was required to meet demand. He wrote to his amputee models inviting them back for another session during the summer break.
Rory and Nick met again in late June. Their first year studies were over except for a long list of recommended reading they were expected to digest before the autumn. Rory was wearing a new pair of prostheses, looking far more basic and mechanical than his previous pair but made of separate components for the sockets, the pylons and the feet. It was usual for them to be covered with a cosmesis to resemble the shape of human legs but Rory decided to wear the new legs without. His trousers and jeans draped over the skeletal prostheses in an odd manner which made it obvious that his legs were not flesh and blood. Rory had also used some of his spare cash to buy a short extension for his left pylon to replace the foot. It turned his artificial leg into a peg leg and Rory met Nick at the local tube station wearing it. Nick had also changed his appearance. He had removed the left prosthesis from his harness and turned up in a T-shirt with a bare stump on the left and a hook on the right.
– The cable broke in March so I couldn’t use the hook for three weeks. After that, I didn’t bother with the left arm so much. I don’t really need it if we’re just mooching around.
They sat facing each other on the train and Rory showed off his new legs. Nick was astounded by the peg leg.
– I like it a lot. It’s really easy to walk on.
– Have you thought about using two?
– I have but I’m not sure I would be able to stand still on two. Walking would be OK.
– You ought to get another one. I’d love to see that.
Jenner was waiting for them in his studio.
– I was thinking of an outdoor shoot this time. We could find a quiet spot somewhere and you could do some foreplay. Did you bring the other hook, Nick?
– No, just the one.
– OK. It’s not important. Your hooks are very popular. You know that, don’t you? Never mind. We can still get some great shots. I was thinking we could go to Hampstead Heath. There are usually some quiet spots where people won’t see us.
– OK. How are we going?
– Oh, taxi. There’ll be a bit of a walk at the other end. You can manage that, can’t you, Rory?
– I reckon so. Have you noticed my new peg?
– Oh, that looks fantastic. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll get my gear and we can go.
They walked to Oxford Street and Jenner hailed a passing taxi.
– Hampstead Heath please, driver. Parliament Hill. So, how are you getting on at uni?
They chatted about the student life, coming to terms with greater independence and their expectations for the near future. The taxi slowed to a stop at the start of Parliament Hill.
– Drive as far along as you can, please.
Jenner paid the driver and they continued into the park area. The day was sunny with cumulus clouds drifting slowly along the southern horizon.
– I’ve brought you here because I want you to imagine that one of you is attacked on the heath by the other. I don’t need you to have sex this time but if you could strike some aggressive poses, that’s the sort of thing I mean. I want you to be naked too, so keep an eye out for a secluded place where we won’t be disturbed.
They walked to the top of a hill and looked around. The centre of London was visible through a blue cast. A stand of trees a hundred yards away promised a little seclusion and they strolled across the grass to it. Rory was surprised and pleased to find that his peg leg was easier to walk on than the artificial foot on his other leg.
– I think this could be a good spot. We can’t be seen from that direction and the trees give you a bit of cover. What do you think?
– Fine with me.
– Yeah. Shall we get our clothes off and get started? You can direct how you want to shoot us.
Rory stripped and assisted Nick.
– Hang on a minute and I’ll take my hook off.
Nick’s harness was over a T-shirt, as always.
– Nick, leave your arm off for a bit to start with. What I want is for Rory to walk towards the trees where you are sitting, Nick. You could hug your knees with your stumps, for example. Rory, you see Nick and he catches your eye but you continue to walk by. Nick stares after you and you stop to stare back. Look a bit aggressive or annoyed. You don’t like being stared at, see?
– OK, I get it. I’ll go down there and walk towards you.
– No, walk sort of off to the side, not directly towards us.
– OK, gotcha.
They watched Rory descend the hill a little until he turned and looked at them. He was naked except for his artificial legs and approached diagonally, head held high, arms powering his stride. Jenner let off a few shots and moved behind Nick to include him. The best take was of Nick’s face in profile with his eyes on Rory who had turned his head to stare at his friend.
– Walk towards Nick, Rory, and confront him.
Jenner moved around to capture Nick straightening up and holding his stumps in front of him in submission. Rory stood with his legs apart and his arms crossed.
– Rory, can you sort of poke Nick with your peg leg? Give him a bit of a push, if you can. Nick, rock backwards a little as if he’s pushing you. Great. Hold that while I change a new roll. OK. Now Nick, lie on the ground and Rory, I want you to put your peg leg on Nick’s chest. Nick, use your stumps to hold the peg leg. He’s got you pinned and it’s making you horny.
Jenner circled with his camera capturing Nick’s handsome moustachio’d face looking into his friend’s eyes in surprise and submission. Rory looked triumphant as he subdued his friend with his new steel peg leg. His friend’s arm stumps flailed uselessly.
– OK, I need to change the roll again. Nick, Rory is going to help you put your hook on next and I want you to start using it to pull Rory towards you. Right, carry on.
Rory took his peg leg off Nick’s chest and knelt in front of his friend. He picked up the prosthetic arm and held it threateningly in front of Nick’s face. Nick held out his right stump and Rory pushed the socket onto it. Nick shrugged the harness over his shoulders and put the hook behind Rory’s neck, pulling him down. Rory licked Nick’s nipples. Nick opened his hook and pushed it against Rory’s face. Jenner quickly shot Rory’s face with its bared teeth and snarl. Rory tilted his head and put his arms around Nick’s chest to wrestle him to the ground. Nick gripped Rory’s head with his stumps and Jenner captured a shot of the struggle with a view of distant London peeking between their chests.
– Stop there, boys. Think about what you want to try next.
– I want Nick to fuck my arse. I feel as horny as hell.
– Great. Nick, do you want a rubber?
– No. Hurry up.
– OK, go!
Rory shifted himself so Nick could sit up. Rory lay on the ground and Nick pushed him with his stumps, holding his chest against the ground. Nick moved to sit on Rory’s thighs and wanked until his penis stood to attention. Jenner moved behind the boys and took photos of Nick’s legs on either side of Rory’s artificial leg and peg. Nick pushed against Rory’s back until his dick found Rory’s anus and gently pushed his way inside. Neither of them had had sex for several weeks and Nick pounded Rory with masculine power. Jenner shot what he could until his film ran out. Instead of calling a halt, he let the two amputees continue their love-making until Nick arched his back and pushed himself away from Rory. Nick fell back alongside his best mate and they looked into each other’s eyes, sniggering and recovering in peace.
Jenner packed his equipment while the boys donned their artificial limbs and dressed. They walked downhill to the nearby tube station where Jenner hailed a cab back to his Soho studio. The boys both received cheques for five hundred pounds and departed with the usual affirmation that they would always be welcome for another shoot. They were never to return. The Hampstead Heath shoot was the third and last time Jenner would see them.
Rory and Nick did not meet again for four years although they kept in sporadic contact. They both formed close friendships with fellow students and their lives diverged. Rory graduated and found employment in a Midlands tv station, soon working his way up to be head of children’s programming. Nick’s degree in history had little practical value and after a year of unemployment, he finally landed a job as a buyer’s assistant for a John Lewis department store in Hatfield.
Their legacy lived on. The homoerotic photographs of the two double amputees circulated among devotees, copied and re-photographed until they became indecipherable. Pristine original copies of Stag magazines featuring them exchanged hands for hundreds of dollars. With the passage of time, their appearance changed. Nick was clean shaven again while Rory sported a full dark beard with a shaved head. Neither of them had partners, which they blamed on their disabilities although they were both insecure about their sexuality. Rory occasionally revealed his amputee status by wearing shorts in the hope of attracting an admirer. Nick had no need to make an effort to advertise his hooks. They were always on display, changeless symbols of innocent vulnerability and tender homoeroticism which, for a few years, were appreciated by thousands of devotees and admirers all over the world.
T W O K I D S
