Altered Bodies

By D. Glenn Price

It was a dog day, summer afternoon in New York. The three H's were in full force-- hot, hazy, humid and I was running late for an appointment. My entire day had been affected by the oppressive heat, everything and everyone seemed to move in slow motion, as if the world was draped with a steamy, wet blanket that inhibited movement and slowed rational thought. Traffic crawled. The taxi I was riding in had no air conditioning and was steaming hot. The open windows made no difference. All there was outside was more hot air and we were not moving fast enough for the breeze to make any difference.

Like everyone else who had to endure the City that day, I desperately wanted to get into my air-conditioned loft, remove my clothes (including the two prosthetic devises that serve as my arms) take a long cold, shower and then relax with a really cold beer. But I had this damn appointment to do a site survey and take-off for a building on which my company was going to bid. I do most of the estimating and bidding for a small construction company and this bid was an important one for a new client. I was facing at least an hour of tedious, very hot work before I could even think of knocking off for the day.

My shirt was plastered to my back, sweat was dripping from my chin and forehead and the damn shoulder straps that held on my arms were really bothering me. My back and left shoulder itched maddeningly and with my artificial arms, I could not scratch it. Just another thing to endure when your arms end about four inches from your shoulders. The inability to scratch your back, the constant chaffing of the shoulder and chest straps, especially in hot weather, phantom pains and the list could go on. Using metal hooks, have you ever tried to take your dick out to pee on a really cold day just having come inside? I can tell you that is a sensation you won't soon forget.

The accident happened six years ago. Then nineteen and a sophomore attending a Midwestern college on a football scholarship, I was a typical cocky teenager. I thought I could do anything.. I also thought I was immortal. At nineteen you tend to think that. That summer my Dad got me a job working on a construction site in Midtown in spite of his reservations about the safety of construction sites.

I was in great shape: six feet tall, one hundred ninety pounds of hard muscle, thirty inch waist, forty-seven inch chest and seventeen inch arms. I have light brown/golden hair which I have always worn shoulder length, a strongly featured face with high cheek bones and ice blue, Paul Newman eyes. That summer, I stopped traffic. Both guys and girls stopped to stare when I wore my construction drag. The day of the accident, I was wearing my typical outfit, a pair of faded, button fly Levi cutoffs (top button unbuttoned), my laced up work boots, a yellow hard hat and an unbuttoned work shirt with the sleeves ripped out. The shirt would always come off no later then nine thirty every morning. Needless to say, I loved to display my great body. I loved the stares, I loved to cock tease.

The morning had passed uneventfully. That afternoon we had to place a particularly tricky piece of steel that would carry the outer wall of the hotel we were building across the two story lobby opening. I have never been able to figure out exactly why the accident happened. I was squatting down to remove bolts from a piece of steel that was already in place. Some fool had left four nuts on the screws that would hold the two pieces of steel together and I was told to remove them. I had removed three of the bolts and was leaning over to remove the last one. It was screwed tight but I was sure that I could loosen it with no trouble if I put my back into it. I lay down on my stomach in order to get better leverage when suddenly I heard a shout, looked up and saw a fifty ton, steel girder swinging at me out of control. It slammed into my arms with such force that they were immediately severed and smashed into a thin, bloody smear of crushed bone and flesh.

I distinctly remember a blast of white hot pain, rolling over onto my back and seeing the stumps of my arms in the air with blood spurting out of them. I began to scream incoherently and then I remember nothing else until I woke up in the hospital with four inch stumps where my arms had been.

The first time I actually looked at my altered body, I had a hard time comprehending that it was actually me I was looking at. I saw the familiar wash board stomach, the deeply defined pecs, the fine hair that spread across my chest and flowed down across my belly to the thick thatch at my crotch. My balls were there and my dick, with a cater inserted for my piss and then my legs thickly muscled and covered with fine golden hair. But my arms ended in short bandaged stumps. I cried.

The next six months were a haze of physical and emotional pain, fear, doubt and frustration I went through the first three standard stages of loss but it took a while to get over the final stage, acceptance. It all turned around one memorial day in the physical therapy room.

I was having a real problem mastering the intricate series of movements in my shoulder and chest muscles that were key to properly controlling my prosthesis. I was playing my usual "why me" and "I can't do this, it's too hard" tune, when my therapist turned to me and said in a harsh, exasperated voice "What happened to you was tragic, but it is up to you to play the hand that life deals you even though it might not be fair or very pleasant. Life is not fair!" Then he yelled "Deal with it!" and stalked out of the room, completely fed up with my wining and uncooperative attitude. He had said things like that before but never with such force and that day it sank in. I began to accept the fact that my arms were gone and that I now had to learn how to live with, and control the artificial ones that replaced them.

During my rehabilitation, I also finally had to admit that I had always been turned on by men who had lost a limb (or limbs). From an early age, I had a fascination with men who were amputees. When I was in high school, a classmate, Tommy Bainbridge, lost his right leg at the hip when he was hit and run over by a garbage truck.. I was fascinated by his empty left pant leg, rolled up and pinned to his hip and by the way he gracefully moved his one legged body using his crutches. When he moved to another town, I was disappointed but secretly relieved. I didn't need the constant reminder of my 'weirdness.' But the fascination only increased as I got older and more sexually active.

Now, when I look at my naked body, I get really turned on by the short stumps of my arms. My cock swells, hardens and arches out from my groin. I ache to touch it, to caress and pinch my nipples, to run my hand over the flat hardness of my stomach, But I can't and that is the one of the most frustrating thing about having no arms. I certainly would never have chosen to do anything about becoming an amputee. I was not a wannabe but now that I am an amputee, I get pleasure from the fact. I am still completely turned on by amputee men, especially double, above the knee amputee men .

My body was still tight with well developed chest and back muscles, great legs and a hard, flat stomach. I worked out regularly with personal trainer using a system of weights and pulleys attached to cuffs fitted over my stumps and strapped around my chest and shoulders. I regularly swam, snow skied, ran marathons, biked and hiked. I had several boy friends who were also turned on by my armless body and I had as much sex as I wanted, but I didn't have a lover. I had never met an gay amputee with whom I wanted to share my life and that was the one great void in my life.

I finally made it to my destination, paid off the cabby walked into the lobby of the apartment building that I was scheduled to survey. My appointment was for three thirty and it was almost five when I rang the door bell of the super's apartment. I rang the bell two or three times before I heard a voice saying he would be right there. The door opened revealing a young man about my age sitting in a wheel chair. He was wearing only a pair of white silk running shorts, of almost transparent fabric, slit up the sides to the waist band and he was legless, with very short above the knee stumps. The right leg was gone perhaps two inches from the hip, the left about four inches from the hip. The left stump poked out from the fabric of his shorts, the scar that closed the wound clearly visible; the right stump was hidden by his shorts.

My knees suddenly went weak. I stared for a long moment at the man in the chair. This was the man of my dreams, my fantasy lover. He had thick, curly dark hair flowing down to the middle of his back and tumbling over his forehead, luminous, dark brown eyes, a refined nose with slightly flared nostrils and full, beautifully shaped lips. His torso and arms were extraordinary, strongly muscled, finely proportioned and covered with flawless, completely hairless, olive skin now tanned a deep golden brown. He had a gold ring in his right nipple and a gold chain around his neck The gold and the white shorts contrasted with and set off his bronzed skin in a manner that I found extremely exciting.

He stared back at the prosthetic arms ending in hooks that projected from my shirt sleeves. Recovering after a moment, he said in a husky, well modulated voice 'You here to see my brother? He said someone was coming to look at the building but when you were late, he left.

"Sorry I'm late. The heat seems to have slowed the world to a crawl." I said by way of explanation. "Where did he go? Did he say he say when he would be back?"

"He just said for me to let you up to the roof . OK. You want to come in? You look like you could use a beer and a rest in air conditioning."

I suddenly realized that the apartment was air conditioned. The blessed coolness washed over me like a crisp winter morning.

"I would love to come in. And that beer sounds like heaven" was my reply.

"Great . Come on in and sit down." He rolled back the chair and gestured with a muscular arm to the living room. I went in and set down on the sofa. From the kitchen he yelled out "This weather reminds me of PR, the summers are hot like this but at least you can go to the beach to cool off." He had almost no Puerto Rican accent. I wondered about that.

He wheeled himself back into the room with one hand, carrying two bottles of beer by their necks with the other. I was again almost overwhelmed by his sheer beauty. He rolled up to my knees and handed me the beer and he put his hand on my bare leg just below my shorts.

He said "Nice legs. I like guys with great legs." When I said nothing and did not push his hand away, he continued to rub his hand along my thigh up and under the shorts. I took a deep sighing breath. This could not be happening. My dream could not be coming true.

I could smell him, his pleasant, musky scent overlaid with desire. I was getting really hard. His hand moved up my thigh and touched my rapidly swelling dick through the thin fabric of my shorts. His own dick, fat, heavily veined and uncut began to poke out of his shorts. I wanted to take it in my mouth and spend a pleasant eternity going down on it.

With a jerk, he pulled off his shorts to reveal his naked body. He was glorious. There was no tan line. He obviously liked to sun bathe in the nude. My kind of guy, I like to do that too. I took in the sight of his naked, legless body. His left stump was rounded with a ridge of dark scar tissue running across it; his right had a heavy S-shaped scar with several smaller scars radiating from it. He had shaved all of his pubic hair; there was only his beautiful dick, now fully erect and pointing skyward, his low slung balls and that incredible half body. He thrust his legless hips forward on his chair. There was a bemused smile on his face.

I said in a tight voice that I did not recognize as my own "God, you are beautiful," and promptly pushed his chair back and went down on my knees. I grasped the hard cock in my right hook, brought it to my mouth and began to slide my mouth up and down on his hard meat. He let out a deep sigh, raised himself slightly off the chair and thrust his legless torso forward. He came almost immediately, taking me by surprise and almost causing me to gag. I pulled back and watched the cum continue to spurt. When the spasms abated, he grasped his cock with his right hand and squeezed out the last few drops of cum, caught them on his forefinger and brought it up to his mouth. I watched mesmerized.

"Thanks." he said. "Sorry I came so soon, I really needed that. It has been a while."

I shrugged and remained silent, not trusting myself to speak. I grabbed one of the untouched beers and took a long drink. Regaining my composure and my breath, I said "So what now? What about your brother?"

"Don't worry about my brother. He's great; he knows my scene, but it would probably be better if we went to your place. Let me put some clothes on and leave him a note." Then he stopped to consider "You do have a place, don't you? You live alone, right? Oh and, by the way, my name is Carlos."

He extended his hand, took my right hook and shook it.

"It was really great to meet you. My name is Garret and I do have my own place and I do live alone," I replied. "I have a great loft on Eighteenth between Fifth and Sixth." I then paused and said "Do you always come on so strong?" I was more than a little overwhelmed by the rapid pace of development in this fantastic encounter.

"Yes, but only when I am completely turned on by the other guy and I can see I turn him on too. And you stared at me like you wanted to throw me on the floor and rape me." Carlos replied with a laugh.

I must admit the thought had crossed my mind.

Carlos disappeared into a back room and re-emerged a few moments later dressed in a tee shirt and faded jeans with the legs sewn up to fit the contours of his remaining stumps, a gym bag slung over the back of the chair. He scribbled a note to his brother and we left the apartment, back into the blast furnace of that New York summer afternoon.

We hailed a cab that, by a small miracle, was air-conditioned. As we made our way downtown, Carlos told me his story. He had been born in Puerto Rico and had moved to Greenwich, Connecticut as a six year old child when his parents had met and been hired by a wealthy couple vacationing at a resort where his father was working. His parents were hired to be chauffeur and house keeper. So Carlos grew up and went to school in Greenwich. His family had a small house on the estate of their employers and over time, the families grew close in spite of their differences in wealth and background. So close, in fact, that when Carlos's grandmother died in Puerto Rico, both families flew on the boss's private jet to the Island for the funeral.

It happened on the way back. The plane crashed on landing at Greenwich airport. Carlos and Victor, Carlos's brother, the super, were the only survivors. The others were killed on impact. Carlos sustained severe injuries to his legs; Victor, except for some cuts and bruises and a broken left leg, was unhurt. It was Victor who had pulled his critically injured brother out of the burning plane and had put pressure on his leg wounds to stop the bleeding. Nothing could save his mangled legs, however. When Carlos got to the hospital trauma center, double, high, above-the-knee amputations were performed. The accident had occurred three years ago when Carlos was twenty-one.

After the accident, Carlos and his brother had tried to sue but their suit was thrown out on a technicality. Since that time they had lived together, with Victor working at a series of porter/handyman/assistant super jobs and Carlos collecting disability. The building I was to survey was Victor's first job as a full superintendent and he had big plans for renovating the super's apartment, marrying his girl friend and raising a family. Carlos was worried that ultimately, there would be little room in Victor's life for a crippled, faggot brother. There was an unspoken uneasiness about his own future.

"When it happened, I was really bummed out." Carlos explained. "But what can you do, you know. Like deal with it or jump off a building or something. With my luck I would break my neck and be paralyzed like the guy who played Superman, and that would really be a bummer. But now, I don't mind being a double leg amp. I never wear my legs, too much trouble, and I like looking down and seeing just my stumps." He laughed, slightly embarrassed by his own admission.

Carlos was silent for a minute, then he asked about my accident. When I got to the part about my arms being severed, he winced. "Man, I bet that hurt," he exclaimed and then shuddered.

"Want to know a secret?" I said. "I like being an amp too. That's why I usually wear short sleeve shirts, except when it is really cold, and even then, I sometimes just wear a down vest over a tee shirt."

Carlos smiled and said nothing. We both understood each other.

When we arrived at my building, I paid the cabby and helped Carlos unfold his chair and watched him swing easily into it. Again I was struck by his beauty and innate grace.

I own the penthouse in the building where I live, the entire top floor with terraces on the front and rear. I bought the space raw and spent a lot of money gutting and renovating it to my exact specifications. I really love the flow of the space, the light, the planted terraces and my constantly growing and evolving art and antique collections. It is my home, my womb, my refuge. It never fails to refresh and soothe my soul.

I designed and built the apartment myself using part of my considerable payment from my successful lawsuit against the developer and contractor of the building where I was injured. The design and renovation of the apartment and the search for just the right furniture and art to decorate it was a big part of my rehabilitation. I made complete peace with what happened to me during that construction period.

When we arrived at the loft, Carlos was impressed. He wheeled himself around looking at all the rooms, examining the art and antiques and the terraces. He was especially impressed with my bath/sauna/gym/dressing room. He examined my specially designed gym apparatus with great care. "You know Victor and I have one of those universal gyms but nothing like this. This is great! Mind if I try it?"

"Not at all. Go ahead, knock yourself out," I replied. "Want a beer, we left ours sitting on the table in your apartment."

"Oh jeez, we did didn't we. Victor is going to be pissed. He is a hard-on when it comes to his brews."

I hurried to the kitchen, got two beers and made my way back to the gym. Carlos was sitting on the bench with his back to me, arms outstretched grasping two pulleys. With a grunt and a graceful rippling of the muscles in his broad back and shoulders, he brought the two handles together in front of his chest. He had removed his shirt and the sight was enough to make me faint if I were the fainting type. Third generation Irish men like me are definitely not the fainting type, so I just stared with my mouth open.

With a broad grin, Carlos said "You know, my Dad used to say that if you go around with your mouth open, someday a bug with fly in." He had seen me in the mirrors that line the walls of the gym.

I snapped my mouth shut, grinned back at him and said in an embarrassed half laugh "I can't help it, you do things to me."

"What things, besides making you walk around with your mouth hanging open?" he shot back.

"Well, for one thing you make my dick real hard." I was now painfully aware of my member swelling in the confines of my shorts. A pre-cum stain appeared in the fabric at the tip of my dick.

"You going to stand there like a fool? or are you going to bring me my beer?"

I put the beer in his hand and we both took a long pull. Wordlessly Carlos reached up and took my beer and then set both beers on the floor. He placed his hands on my crotch and rubbed my swollen dick, unzipped my shorts and took my cock out, flinching a little when it jumped out of the confines of my Calvin's. He pushed my shorts and underwear down to my ankles, took my cock in his right hand and slowly began to stroke it. He played with the tip, touching it with his tongue. Then he took the entire thing in his mouth and began to make love to my swollen member.

It was ecstasy, the warm wetness of his mouth and throat filling me with such strong sensations that I staggered and would have fallen if Carlos had not steadied me.

"Nice yes?" he questioned in a quite voice, wiping his hand over his mouth.

"Definitely. Let's go to the bed and do this right." Taking him by the hand, I lead him into the bedroom. He swung over to the bed, lay on his back and with slow deliberation he removed his shorts. He wore no underwear. His huge dick flopped onto his belly. He took it and began to slowly stroke himself with his right hand, exploring the hard flesh of his torso and arms with his other hand, all the while devouring me with that heavy lidded, bedroom stare.

Suddenly he "stood" on his haunches. "Come here." It was a command. I moved to the edge of the bed and set down. He reached over and began to try to unbutton my shirt. "Its Velcro," I said. "Just pull it apart."

"Ah, tricks of the trade." The shirt parted with the rasping of the Velcro. He pushed it over my shoulders and pulled it off. He looked at the straps of the harness that held my arms on. "Pull the front two tabs, more Velcro." I explained.

He reached up, pulled the tabs and eased the prosthetic arms off my shoulders and placed them on the floor. I stretched my stumps out, relieved to be out of the confines of the stump sockets and straps.

"Stand up." he commanded and he spent the next few moments drinking in the sight of my naked, armless body. He reached up and touched my right stump caressing it with the tips of his fingers tracing the outline of the scar that stretched across it and two inches up each side.

He pulled me over on him, catching me by the shoulders as I fell. Our lips met and for a long moment we were lost in the sweetness of each other's mouth, tongue and lips. He pulled away and murmured into my ear "I was always turned on by amps, especially above the elbow and you are the hottest arm amp I ever saw."

"And you are the hottest leg amp I ever saw." I replied as I moved down caressing his torso, nipples and belly button with my tongue marveling anew at the hardness and the beauty of this exquisite male animal. I touched my right arm stump to his right leg stump, massaging it as much as I was able with the short stump. Then I began to trace his stump scars with my tongue, sucking on and lightly chewing the flesh. I took his balls in my mouth one at a time. And for the second time that afternoon I took his cock into my mouth and began long slow strokes trying to take the entire thing in my mouth at one time. I never quite made it.

"I want to rim you, put your butt in the air." I commanded. Without a word, he complied and swung his legless torso into the air catching and holding himself with his hands placed just above his hips. I rimmed him for a long time savoring the sweetness of the puckered, pink hole. And again I silently lamented the lack of arms. I could not slip a finger into that beautiful hole, I could not stretch the hole apart to look deep within. I wanted him so bad.

"Got any rubbers and lube?" he questioned.

"Top drawer, left side." He tore the packet open with his teeth, took the rubber out and , grasping my rigid member in his left hand, he rolled the latex tube onto my cock. Then he applied a liberal amount of lube to my cock and began to stroke me slowly. Laying down he used both hands to rub some more lube into his asshole. He then guided me in and I began to stroke, in and out, in and out. I loved looking down and seeing my hard cock moving in and out of his legless torso. He sighed with contentment and grasped my butt to force me in further. He clamped down on my cock with his sphincter muscles from time to time, moving in rhythm to my strokes. My excitement began to grow. I began to pound his ass. We were both covered in sweat. His hands stroked my chest, pinched my nipples and massaged the stumps of my arms.

We were both close to climax when Carlos gasped "Give it to me baby, really, really hard. Oh man I am going to blow." And he did, hitting himself in the face with his hot cum and leaving a white, pearly trail across that magnificent torso. Within seconds I came too, filling my whole being with the most incredible sensations as my cock jerked again and again with the spasms of my incredible climax . I collapsed onto him, utterly spent. He began to kiss me and run his fingers through my lank, sweat dampened. hair, brushing it back from my face and blowing into my ear. My cock slipped out of him and lay flaccid on my left thigh. He reached down and stripped off the rubber and held it to his nose to sniff our mingled scents. He grew hard again.

"Now its your turn." Carlos swung around and got another rubber out of the bedside drawer where I keep my sex toys. He also pulled out one of my dildos, a big black one with a suction cup on the end. I often use it in the shower, plopping it on the wall and backing onto it. That is how I masturbate.

He took in the huge member with a quick glance. "You know, if someone really had a dick this big, he would faint because all of his blood would be in this club and not in his head," he said with a big grin.

He slid the rubber on his dick, applied some lube and then began to lube and play with my asshole. I began to grow hard again too. He applied more lube to his own asshole and then to the big dildo. Then he eased it up his hole, grunting slightly with the pleasurable pain.

When he finished impaling himself on the giant dildo, he looked up at me and commanded "Sit on it." indicating his hard dick. I squatted over him and he guided himself into me. As I set on his dick and felt it fill my manhole, the sensations were intense. My own cock began to swell and flop on Carlos' belly as I began to slide up and down on his pole. From time to time he had to reach out to steady me. It is very easy to loose your balance when squatting, if you have no arms to counterbalance. This time I came first, not as much as the first time, but I still managed to hit Carlos in the face with my load.

Carlos came a few minutes after I did and I felt his hot cum like an electric shock in my asshole even through the rubber. Again I collapsed onto him, my head hitting the pillow between Carlos' shoulder and head. We lay unmoving for a long time. Finally I rolled over on my back allowing Carlos to remove the dildo from his ass.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?" I queried. "And while you are at it, what are your plans for the rest of your life?"

He replied "I plan to spend it with this hot, armless dude who broke into my apartment and swilled my beers." He replied in mock seriousness. "I plan to spend this entire weekend and maybe even the rest of my life naked and making love to him. That OK with you?"

'Totally!" I replied.

I had found my man. I was finally complete.

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