Without A Leg To Stand On

by Lee G.

Prelude

Out of the darkness and forgetfulness of narcotics, his right hand reached down to a place below his hip. Was it true? Had it happened yet. He felt sheets and then... Yes, it was over. Back into the darkness and dream......

They were fishing. Sitting on opposite banks across a lake of absolute clarity. The waters were smooth. There was a pull on their lines. Both at the same time. They stood up. Bill stood. That was strange. Mac was aware that it was strange. And yet it wasn't any more strange than the fact that he himself was standing on one leg. Just like Bill. He must have given Bill his right leg so that they would be equals. The tug on their lines pulled them into the water. In the water they both were supported. They were graceful as they strode with their one leg toward each other. It wasn't like hopping. It wasn't like swimming. The fishing line was drawing them closer and closer. Into an embrace. Standing in the water with one hand around the other's neck. Mouths meeting. The other hand wandering down to ....

"Mr. MacDonald, Mr. MacDonald, are you awake yet?"

He moaned out a curse as he opened his eyes.

"Yes, Yes...." And he felt again just to make sure. Yes, it was over. The leg was gone. But it was only the hand that told him so. Where the leg was supposed to be there was only pain. Even through the narcotics, he recognized the presence of that pain in the place of a limb.

For time without end there was only that dull awareness of pain. Then there was a shot. And dreams again......

He and Bill were at a table. It was a long dining room table. Immensely long, like those he and Bill had seen in palaces in Europe. Down both sides handsome men were seated. Laughing and joking. At the head of the table he looked down the rows, pleased with the company and the feast. He could not bear the suspense any more. He must look at his lap. He lifted up the table cloth to check. Both his legs were gone. He had no lap. He leaned over and lowered what was left of his body to the floor. Down on the floor, he looked at the rows of guests. Not a single leg reached the floor. All the bodies ended like Bill's and like his with just a hint of stumps in the folds of cut-off pants. He reached out for Bill, beautiful Bill, to touch, just to touch his stubby little stumps.......

"Mac, Mac. It's me, Bill. I'm here. I'm with you. It's ok now."

-1-

The pain was less now. But it was still there. Not always in the form of pain, but always a presence. Most of the time Mac kept his right hand cupped under the bandaged stump to separate himself from this presence.

And to teach himself his new shape. It was important for him to know what his body was now. To know where it ended. "Where am I?", he would sometimes call out when he awoke. "Why, right here in your hospital bed, Mr. MacDonald," a nurse would answer. But that is not what he wanted to know. Only his right hand told him where he was and where he was not.

Bill's visits were, of course, the best part of the day. "Damn," Bill said as he bumped his chair against one of the innumerable bits of medical technology littering the room, "they made a real obstacle course for me again today. You'd think that on a floor for wheelchair cases they could clear a pathway for a chair user. Haven't they ever heard about access around here!"

"Quit bitching. You're supposed to cheer me up. Hop yourself up here on this bed, you gorgeous hunk. I haven't seen you for twelve hours."

And Bill bulldozed through the technology to maneuver his chair up next to the bed. With the skill developed in a lifetime of training he reached out to the bed and heaved his body up on to it. And leaned over to kiss Mac. "Thank God, we got you a single room and a little privacy." After the kiss and after he had lifted himself back into a sitting position with his arms, he asked gently, "How is it, Mac? How is the pain today?"

"It's ok as long as I keep my hand there, Bill. Or as long as you're here. You're a great distraction, you know. Sit on my good leg and snuggle your butt up closer to me... That's it. Scoot your crotch up against mine so that I can feel my dick getting hard against a stump. That's the way to cheer a guy up!"

"What a relief. Good old horny Mac is back among us. However, I think we're going to have to distract ourselves from your distraction because you've got me stiff, too. Do you realize we've never gone this long without sex in the ten years we've been together."

"Ok, ok.. So, beautiful man, what have you been doing all day while I've been lying here on my back?"

"I've been busy, Mac. First I arranged with Buddy, you know, that cute blond below knee guy who is new in town, I arranged with him to come in a hour or two in the afternoons to help us with chores."

"Why? We've never needed help before. I'm not planning on playing hopeless cripple and you sure haven't ever been helpless."

"I'm just trying to be practical. Think about it. You're an amp now. No more pretending. This is for real. How you gonna take the garbage cans out to the street, just to take one example. You're not going to have a prosthesis right away, you know."

"Yes, Mr. Practical. You win on the garbage cans. And Buddy is good to look at as I remember."

"One of us has to be practical. If I'm not helpless, it's because I plan out how to avoid getting in situations I can't cope with. And you'd better start doing it, too. The only spontaneous thing I've ever done in my life was to jump into your lap. Remember, at the lake?"

"As I remember it, that's the one thing I did plan. So continue. What else did you do today?"

"I had Buddy help me get rid of stuff in the house to make some room for two wheelchairs when you get home from the hospital. Is that ok with you?"

"Yeah, actually I think it will be a good thing to use a chair instead of crutches at home. I'll be at eye level with you. I like that thought."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of not having my eyes at your crotch level. But, at any rate, I had Buddy put most of the extra chairs in storage. Then we moved some of the furniture so that there is almost no place that will put you more than one hop away from a table or something for you to rest your butt on. That should also help you when you need to carry things. You put them down. Hop. And move them to the next resting spot."

"I'm impressed, Bill. You seem to think of everything."

"Thirty years of practice in planning ahead that's all. I also asked some other one legged guys for suggestions of an ideal living space. I'm going to design a kind of hand rail and butt rest down the hall and along a few of the walls. The idea, as I said, is for you to be able to go anywhere without crutches."

"All of the things you planned for your own chair access should help, too. How fortunate can a new amp be. To have a live in professional disability consultant."

"Yes, if I do say so myself. Those storage units I can reach and their counter space on top should work for you, too. But I did come up with a new idea for the bathroom. A stool for you to rest your stump on. It fits under the counter by the sink that I sit on. So what do you think. Did I do good work for you today?"

"Sure did, but I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Come up here and kiss me again."

Bill lifted his body up on to Mac's stomach. Resting his elbows on Mac's pillow, he leaned down for the kiss. His crotch slid down to meet Mac's crotch and Mac's waiting hands.

"Ah, it is so great to have you on top of me again." Mac's eyes filled with tears as they usually did when he held Bill this way. It always reminded him of that first time. Without thinking his right hand went inside the cut off jeans Bill was wearing. "Ah," he moaned again as his hand found Bill's cock. "Ah, yes," he moaned as he felt the cock inside his palm and Bill's stump rubbing against the other side of his hand. Mac's other hand held Bill's other stump, the shorter one, through the fabric of the jeans. All of this movement was taking place on top of Mac's stiff cock.

"What if, what if someone comes in?", Bill whispered when he lifted up on his elbows for a breather.

"Who cares, Bill Baby. Just be spontaneous. It's therapy."

Bill fell back onto Mac's greedy mouth. Fell back into the grasp on his greedy hands. The tension of the last few days was released - spontaneously - into Bill's jeans. Mac's stump throbbed with a rush of blood and adrenalin, reminding him that he was, finally, an amputee. And just as he came, spontaneously spurting onto the bandages of his stump, a vision whizzed through his brain of both of them embraced like this, when he had rid himself of the other leg, too.

-2-

When he woke up the next morning, Mac reached to make sure his right leg was still gone. Ah, it was. Then he noticed that he felt pretty good. It wasn't just the pain killers either. After Bill's conjugal visit last night, he had slept like a baby.

Today was the day he was going to see the stump for the first time. He tried to prepare himself for disappointment. Bill was right, he did indeed idealize amputation. He did indeed deny the ugly reality of life without a limb. Even living with Bill for ten years had not really prepared him for the reality he was going to have to face. This was permanent, Mac. Face it. You asked for it. You got it. Moral of this story is watch out for what you ask for.

So, get ready, he told himself. That stump is going to keep hurting. You are going to have strange sensations maybe for the rest of your life. You got rid of the leg, but it is going to haunt you. Bill is right. You can't even take out the garbage on one leg. You've either got to hop. Or lean on crutches. Sure you'll get a prosthesis. But you know their limitations, don't you? You've worked with braces and limbs long enough to know about bad fits and sores and parts breaking. And, let's face it, Mac, you are no spring chicken. It will be harder for you than for a young guy to learn to walk again.

Therefore, he continued in his lecture to himself, get ready for the stump. It's going to look awful. Red and black and blue. The sutures will look like something out of a Grade B Frankenstein movie. It's not going to be smooth and rounded and phallic like Bill's congenital stubs.

And then he remembered the vision that had flashed through his head last night when he had Bill's legless bottom in his hands, the vision of himself also as a double amp. Would it never cease? God, maybe he was really sick. Maybe it hadn't been enough to admit to himself that he was attracted to amps. Maybe it hadn't been enough to admit to himself and, eventually, to Bill that he desperately wanted to be one. Here he was, the luckiest devotee in the world with a dream of a lover in the form of Bill. The luckiest wannabe in the world with an amputation behind him, and for a legitimate medical purpose at that. And he still wasn't satisified. What if he were to lose the other leg? Would he want his arms off, too? No, fight that image off even if your cock is growing at the thought, buddy. Let's think this through. Maybe this is the time to deal with this once and for all.

What was behind it all, anyway. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any beginning to this. Neither to his being gay nor to fascination with cripples nor to his wanting to be one of them. All he knew was that they all came together in two places - his head and his dick.

It must have been in his head first because there were connections even before he was very much aware of his dick.

He replayed some bits of film in the projector of his memory:

The grown man with little twisted baby legs who sat on a wheeled cart in front of the department store and sold pencils. "Don't stare," said Mother as she grabbed his hand and pulled him on down the side walk.

In the bus station waiting with Mother. "I've got to pee." "Wait til we get home. There are queers in the bathroom here." "What's a queer." "Never mind."

The boy on the school bus. He was in high school. He carried his books for homework in the crook of his elbow. Below the pattern of scar, the rest of his arm was gone. He was good looking. He was the only big kid on the bus who was nice, who didn't tease us little kids.

In my bedroom. I have invited a friend home after school to play. He wants to shut the door and close the curtains. I am never to ask him home to play again.

Lying on the couch in the living room. I am bored and in a bad mood. Father comes in and says, "Stop playing with that gun or it'll go off in your hand." I don't know what he means.

Doctor's office. A man is sitting across from me. He wears a big black boot on one foot and limps when he gets up to go into the inner office. I feel myself getting warm and bigger inside my pants. This has never happened before. Is something wrong? But it feels good. I don't want it to stop.

In bed at night. I can't sleep. I think about the man in the boot, the man on the cart, the boy on the bus. I feel bigger and warmer. In my sleep my gun goes off.

In the garage, using croquet mallets as crutches. Then I am too tall for that. I use some metal rods to tie around my legs as braces. I get an erection. I know what that is now. But I always worry that someone will find me.

Well, Mac, what have we learned from this film? Nothing we didn't know before - that you get off on guys if they are crippled and that you get off on cripples if they are guys. Always feeling different and not one of the guys. Wanting to be one of the guys you really admire, one of the crippled guys.

Remember, Mac, when you first admitted this to Bill? Hardest thing you have ever done. Best thing, too. But you had to do it in stages. The gay thing was so obvious as not to need explanation, of course. The devotee part was hard, but absolutely necessary when you realized that you loved each other and had a chance for a future together. ("You mean you get hot because I have no legs?" "No, I get hot because of you, and you have no legs. You don't get hot when you see me just because I do have legs, do you?" "No, but the fact that you have good looking hairy legs doesn't hurt." "Well, that's what I mean, Bill.") The wannabe part was the worst. Bill still cannot understand. It is too much to expect that he ever will. ("You mean you want to be like me. My God, Mac, you know how tough life is for me. It takes every last drop of energy I have to plan out ways to do the simplest little thing. You of all people ought to know that." "Yes, I do want to be like you. I think you are wonderful. And my legs do keep us apart. Don't you get tired of looking up at me? Don't you ever get jealous?" "Yes, Mac, I do sometimes. With you I sometimes wish desperately that I had legs, with a wish like I haven't wished since I was kid." "That's what I mean, Bill.")

That was the past. What would the future be? Better adjust to losing one leg, Mac, before you get too worked up about the other. Oh, Bill, I hope you get here soon. All this is too much for me. I need you.

As if on cue, Bill came through the door, up on legs and walking. Until he got to the maze of medical equipment he could maintain his rhythm. With his weight borne by the left socket he flung his right stump forward at the same time as he moved the crutch forward in his left hand so that he could catch himself on it at approximately the same time as his right leg followed through into position. Then leaning on crutch and right socket he could swing his left hip around to bring that leg up into position to repeat the process. This walk and its strangely graceful logic still had the power to excite Bill. It also had the power to bring back the memory of that party when Bill had walked into the room and Mac went up to talk to him. That had been the real beginning of their love.

"So, why the legs today, Bill? Who you trying to impress besides me?" Mac reached up to offer a hand so that Bill could lower himself to sit on the edge of the bed. Without Mac's leg in the way, there was room for him.

"I'll tell you only after you give me a kiss.... Well, here's the deal, Mac. On the way out of here last night (by the way you do remember last night don't you?) the nurse suggested I take you for a ride in the wheelchair today. They think you are getting too used to this bed. So I thought we'd reverse the roles today. You be the cripple and I'll push. It's just what you have always wanted, isn't it?"

Mac was not sure whether he was being sarcastic or accepting or both. Probably Bill wasn't sure either.

What was for sure, however, is that a few minutes later they noticed the stares of folks in the lobby. In the reflective surface of the lobby walls, they got a good look at what the other folks were staring at. Young, strikingly handsome blond man walking as if his legs operated independently of his trunk while he leaned his weight on the handles of the wheel chair. In the wheel chair, a graying but still ruggedly handsome older man missing a leg. Bill stopped for a moment. Their eyes met in the reflection. They smiled. Their eyes began to tear up with love and relief that they had come this far safely. Mac's cock swelled beside his bandaged stump. Bill's cock fought to get out of the special covering he wore over both stumps and his genitals when he had legs strapped on.

Back in the room, Mac said, "Just when you came in today, I was remembering that party. What an entrance you made."

"Yeah, I'll never forget it either. I had just decided that if I was going to be gay I'd have to meet other gay people some way. I'd heard about that monthly gathering. It sounded better than a bar. So I checked out the location. No wheel chair access to the apartment building. And two steps, but with a good solid rail. If I were going to go, I'd have to do it on legs. It was a high rise so I knew there would be an elevator."

"I remember that you got to the center of the room and just stood there. In that absolutely unmoving way you have when standing."

"Once I get balanced I don't want to rock this boat my butt is standing in. Anyway, I was trying to figure out what to do next. There was an hors d'oeuvre table with people standing around it holding plates and talking between mouthfuls. If the food was simple I might manage without a plate. But there was such a crowd around it, I was afraid of getting pushed off balance. I looked at the available chairs. They were all low and stuffed with pillows. Out of the question. Thank God, you came up to me just when I was about to panic. Do you remember what you said?"

"Just your name, Bill."

"Right. And you said it so comfortingly. I have never been so grateful to anyone in my life."

"And then you said, 'Mr. MacDonald.' And I have never felt so old in my life."

"But I've never called you anything but Mac ever since."

"How profound we were. The great love of the century begins with a conversation including nothing but names."

"Anyway you got me into the next room and seated at a table while you went to get us both a glass of wine."

"Yeah and I remember how insistent you were about just having one glass so you wouldn't harm your balance. Planning ahead, as always."

"And while you were gone, Randy came up to the table. With his cane and his limp. For once I was glad to see another crip. Maybe gay life was going to be all right. Both my prosthesist and another crip were here."

"By the time I got back with the wine, you and Randy seemed to be bosom bodies and I was jealous as hell."

"And I had gotten the idea that you and Randy were lovers, and feeling a little disappointed at the thought."

"Randy could have confused anybody in those days. But I was about to become available."

"I was too scared and virginal to be available. You took care of the scared. And Randy took care of the virginal."

"The conversation has just taken an unpleasant turn, Bill. Let's go back so I can tell you again that my heart melted when I saw you come into the room. Good Lord, I'd known you for practically all of your life. I'd fitted you with an increasing complicated series of limbs beginning with those little stubby cups around your baby stumps. I'd seen you grow into an Adonis. And, of course, I had been totally professional. With your bottom exposed and in my hands I had to put down the raging devotee inside me."

"But it was the gentle firmness of your touch which came back to me when you came up to me and spoke my name. All those years when I had hated my half body, you treated it with what felt like respect and love. My body remembered."

"Come here, Bill. My body wants to remember you right now." Bill balanced for a moment on the crutch, then walked over to join Mac sitting on the edge of the bed. Mac's hand found its way through fly and prosthesis and strap to the covering of Bill's crotch. Bill's found its way through gown and robe to the stiff cock beside the bandaged stump.

"How are you going to explain that cum all over your bandage, Mac?"

"Same way I did last night. 'Sorry, nurse, I just have a spontaneous emission every time my lover visits.' Anyway they're going to change the dressing in a little while. This is the day, I see what I look like."

"Sorry I won't be here. I know it's an important moment, but I've got a client waiting. See you tomorrow."

-3-

The next morning Mac woke up to pain. He must have twisted his stump somehow in his sleep. He hadn't slept well. That was for sure. He missed the presence of Bill in the bed. And he began to feel an erection growing just thinking about Bill in bed with him.

Bill's body was made to hold in bed. If they were both lying on their sides, Mac would bring his knees up so that Bill could cuddle his butt down on Mac's thighs. (What would that be like now that he had only one thigh. It might work better if Mac were on his left side. File that thought for later.) Or facing each other, one of Mac's arms would circle Bill's neck or back. The other would make a nest for his bottom. It was absolute bliss for Mac to be in such total contact with Bill.

Yes, Bill was made for bed. No agility problems there. He would scoot his body up and down and around Mac's, tickling and teasing each inch as he went. Bill called it checking out the legs. "Got to make sure these beauties are still here," he would say. Now one of them was indeed gone. Lord, how Mac missed Bill. How many hours was it until his next visit? Seven. An eternity. Ok, let's get on with it. First of all, get up on those crutches and go pee.

Shit. Why do those nurses leave all this junk in the way. How do they expect me to negotiate this maze?

Crutches had lost their eroticism in the last few days. It was not very erotic to try to control hospital gown and robe and a dick which needed its morning piss while balanced on two sticks. It was not very romantic to find that you can't even brush your teeth the way you used to if your weight is supported on crutches. You can't just bend over to spit. He was looking forward to that stool Bill had put in the bathroom at home. In his pretending days, Mac had enjoyed the very feel of crutches under his armpits. It was part of the excitement. No more hard ons now from leaning on hard wood or metal. It was probably just as well. You couldn't go through life with a constant hard on.

However, he noticed he could still get an erection on crutches when he thought of Bill. Bill on the floor, for example, as he liked to be at home. Bill scooting on his butt toward him as Mac crutched in the door. Bill welcoming him home by unzipping his fly. Mac resting his stump on Bill's shoulders as Bill ...

Ok, enough of that for now, Mac, you are avoiding what really kept you awake last night. Memories. Triggered by that conversation with Bill about the party and Randy. Shall we play that tape now in the light of day, Mac?

********

When Mac got back with the wine for Bill, he found Randy in the midst of answering the "What happened to you?" question. Bill's own answer to the same question never took much time: "I was born this way."

"So," Randy was saying, "I tell people I am the Last of the Polios. It's not literally true, of course. But close. My folks were missionaries imposing their God on innocent third world villagers until I was six years old. They preached relying on God and forgot about vaccine. By the time we got back in the states I was already their "cross to bear". And had been for as long as I could remember. Shit. I wasn't their cross to bear. I was their sacrificial lamb. I got some good things out of their religion, however. Job, for example. You should read that sometime, Bill. He was as angry at the old man as I am."

From experience Mac knew the conversation was heading Randy toward one of his rages. Talking about his folks and religion was a dangerous sign. Unfortunately, Mac was never any good at deflecting Randy. If he were to suggest that maybe Bill would like to talk about something other than Randy's horrible childhood, Randy was sure to launch into a rage against Mac.

But Bill rescued things for the moment. "Maybe you could tell me, well maybe give me some pointers at being disabled in the gay community. This party is the first gay thing I've ever done. I've been dreading and planning for it for weeks. But I had to start somewhere and I didn't know what else to do."

"Did you notice when you walked into the room how conversation kind of stopped, but by the time you stopped and Mac walked up to you no one was looking at you?"

"Sure, but that happens all the time. People stare, but they won't look you in the eye. It's like the old story of the elephant in the room no one talks about. I've gotten used to being the elephant."

"Yeah, but the tension is turned up a notch when you are in a room full of gay males."

"I suppose the awkward quiet did last a little longer today than usual."

"Well, my theory, developed in several hundred nights of walking into gay bars, is that the first half of the quiet is the extra breath needed by gay males for their physical assessment of each new guy who walks in. Look around the room right now at how every guy is checking out the blond hunk who just walked in. But with us, their weak little minds also have to register the shock to their values that we represent. They're programmed to receive a certain body image on their screens. They want two matching hairy legs like Mac baby's. And we don't compute. Our limps crash their hard on drive. I need another drink."

Randy lifted himself up off his chair, locked his brace, grabbed his cane and headed for the bar. His limp certainly didn't slow him down. His walk was a quick and efficient swing of the left hip and stiff leg and then almost normal stride with the right leg, except for a kind of flop of the right foot. On the way to the bar he winked and flirted outrageously. There was a kind of ripple effect of confused looks on the faces of the guys he passed by. They obviously noticed his intriguing good looks, flashing green eyes, black hair, sculptured face that, although freshly shaven, still hinted at a thick black beard. And they just as obviously noticed his limp.

"Don't mind him, Bill. He isn't always like this. That hard edge sometimes melts into a puddle of softness. He just got back from a command visit to his parents for the funeral of a relative. While he was there they held a prayer meeting to cure him."

"Of his limp? It's a little late for that"

"No, this time it was for his so called life style. And it's a little late for that, too."

When Randy got back with his refill, it was already half gone and he almost missed the seat of his chair in the process of sitting.

He looked a bit embarassed as he said, "Before I lose this thought in liquor, Bill. Yes, I will try to tell you what it's like if you want. Here's my phone number. Give me a call and we'll talk."

"Maybe we should be going now, Randy." Mac was getting worried about him. He knew the kind of scene Randy was capable of.

"No way. The fun is just starting. Have you told Bill here that we have something else in common? That you keep me mobile, too. Yep, Bill, he not only makes fake legs he straps up legs that don't work any more, too. Our man, Mac, patcher up of cripples. Yeah, and I introduced him to gay life, too. Can you imagine that? Young randy Randy initiates old man Mac. Did a pretty good job of breaking you in, too, didn't I?" He poked under Mac's crotch with his cane handle as if he were going to impale him on its crook.

"Ouch. That's enough Randy, we'd better leave now."

"Nope. I need another drink." And off he went for the bar again. Stopping every once in awhile to hook his cane around a neck and draw a mouth up to his for a kiss. Or outline the fullness of a crotch in a tight pair of jeans with the tip of his cane.

"This is getting serious. We need to get him out of here. I may need your help, Bill. If you can think of something to distract him, try it, please."

By the time Randy returned, Bill had come up with a plan. "Randy," he said, "I've got to be going. But I don't think I can take the gauntlet of stares you've got started. At least alone. Would you leave with me? That'll give 'em a real eye full."

"Ok. For you, Bill, I'll do it. The elephants will leave together. Come on, zookeeper, you can come, too."

By the time they got home, Mac was both needing and dreading sex with Randy. The kind of sex that was by then leaving not only the taste of cum, but also symbolic bitterness in Mac's mouth. Randy, as usual, gave orders for the scenario.

"Take my pants off, faggot. You know you can't wait to look at these legs. The one that you can't really fix. The skinny one. Look at it, faggot. You get off on that, don't you. Ok, get your dick out. Rub it up and down the brace. Turns you on, doesn't it? Now suck on my dick. Yeah, you can keep one hand on the brace, but get me heated up. I'm going to bang your butt tonight, faggot. Get me locked in position in this damned apparatus. And then you're going to lift your hairy legs for me, aren't you. And you love it. Can't get enough, can you?"

Afterwards Mac faced facts for the first time. He had had enough. He realized that ever since that first night Mac when had recognized him in that bar, Randy had been using Mac's weakness. "Hey," he had said that first night, "you get off on my leg, don't you, Mac. That's why you work in a brace and limb shop. You've got a fetish for cripples. Well, well, well. You may come in handy, Mac." Mac was in no position to say anything. He could still taste Randy's cum in his mouth, the first cum he had ever tasted. His hands were still fondling Randy's weak leg. Randy was the first person to discover Mac's secret. He had dreamed of sex with a man. He had dreamed of sex with crippled men. His dream had come true. He would do almost anything to keep it alive.

Lovers is the wrong word for what they were. They were useful to each other. Mac was better and more reliable for Randy than a glory hole or a hustler. He had two good legs. Randy could fuck out his anger at the two legged world on Mac. And Mac was no longer alone with his secret.

Knowing each other as well as they did, they were also friends. Sometimes even good friends. But those times were becoming more and more infrequent. Randy's anger was growing in the fertile soil of Mac's neediness. It was time for Mac to move on.

*********

Bill finally got to the hospital, wheeling into the room with a smile and an idea. "Let's go for a ride. Hop in your chair."

They wheeled down the hall. It was great to be at eye level with each other. Only a few times in the past had Bill indulged Mac's fantasy of going out in public in two chairs. Now it wasn't play. And it sure helped conversation not to have to lean down to whisper private jokes.

At the hospital door, they didn't stop. Bill had meant a real ride. They wheeled to Bill's van. Mac used the power lift for the first time and discovered that Bill had removed the seat on the passenger side. Mac's eyes teared with the thought that this was for real. He felt like one of the club. Bill's club.

Bill noticed his tears. "What's the matter, baby." He leaned over to kiss Mac and to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"It's all too much. My head is spinning. This amputation has stirred up all sorts of memories. And some bad stuff, too. I've had too much time on my hands to think. And I've been waiting all day for you. And I'm so happy to be with you. I'm, I'm so lucky."

And Mac's hands began groping in the folds of Bill's cut offs. "Damn, these chairs are too far apart. Hop over into mine."

"Maybe I'd better not. I'm afraid I'll hurt your stump if I sit on it."

"You don't weigh much, remember? And you don't take up much room. And besides I've had a fantasy about this for years. Two guys in one chair. When I get healed a little more we'll do the extended version of this fantasy. It's called two guys fucking in one chair."

"Can't you think of anything else, Mac?" He brushed Mac's hand away from his crotch.

"Wait. Hold on a minute, Bill. What's with you today?"

"God, I'm sorry, Mac. I've been trying to keep a brave front for you. But this amputation has shaken me, too. At the risk of a really bad pun. I feel like I don't have a leg to stand on any more."

"But you seemed so accepting of it. Your cheeriness. Your planning how to make the house easier for me to maneuver in."

"Mac, you know that's how I try to cope. When in doubt, plan."

"In contrast to the way I deal with what I can't handle. When in doubt, fantasize."

"And lose a limb or two in process."

"You know me too well, Bill."

"I know you. But I still can't understand it. Particularly now that you've lost a leg for real. You sometimes act as if that were the greatest thing that ever happened to you. When you know damn well I'd give almost anything for a leg - even a puny one like Randy's."

"Bill, baby. I know that. And if I could, I would give you the one I've got left."

"Yes, I think you would. You've never really said so, but I expect you are still not completely happy. You're still a wannabe aren't you? You wannabe as legless as I am."

"Yes, Bill. I have thought about it. But then I know you're a wannabe, too. Wannabe normal. Can we make it together on that much in common?"

"I hope so, Mac. But sometimes I wonder. I was trying to do the laundry today. I went to get your hamper out of the closet. You had it shoved back in a corner where I couldn't reach because that closet is the one place in the house that isn't chair accessible. I had to get down on my butt. Scoot over. Knock the damn hamper over to get the clothes out. Push the pile of clothes out of the closet. Pile them in the chair and get myself on top of them. And I had an attack of self-pity like I haven't had in years. When you're around, you know when I'm reaching my limit of frustration. You get up and walk over and take care of the problem. I don't have to ask. You don't do things for me I can do myself. You don't make me feel helpless. You just take away the terror of being legless. And least you used to. Sitting in that damn closet I realized you won't be able to get a chair in there either. And you're going to have a hell of a time carrying a clothes basket on crutches. And you don't even seem to mind!!"

"Bill, baby. I've still got one leg to help us both out of messes."

"But for how long, Mac? If the circulation goes in one leg. It can happen in the other. And then what? Two helpless, legless freaks. Is that what we're going to wind up?"

Mac felt a great need to lighten things up a bit. "As long as we've got enough money to keep Buddy around, we'll be ok, won't we?"

"Yeah, so you can get your kicks looking at his stump, too."

"Bill, has it really been so bad for you all these years? Knowing that I am fascinated by perfect men like you and Buddy, men everybody else calls imperfect. Knowing that I want to be like you because you are my ideal? Has it always been rubbing your nose in the reality you hate?"

"No, of course not. Remember that time at the lake. Our first time."

"Let's drive out there now, Bill. I want to see the lake again."

-4-

Bill turned into the parking area for the overlook at the lake.

Mac had been silent all during the drive from the hospital. He had replayed the conversation they had just had in his mental tape recorder. It had been the most honest conversation they had ever had about Mac's paraphilia and and Bill's self-pity. Bill had never before come so close to saying "I hate my body." And it was disturbing new knowledge to learn that Mac's amputation threatened to push them apart rather than bring them together, as he had always fantasized. As he replayed the tape, he was also aware of the expertise with which Bill drove the van with hand controls. Would Mac have to learn to do that? For the time being could he drive left footed? Bill was right. Being an amp took work..

"There it is, Mac. Our lake. Remember how we happened to come here."

"As if it were yesterday. You had come into the shop for a fitting or re-adjustment on your legs. And we got to talking about the weather and what a fine summer day it was. And I said what a great day for going fishing. And you said you'd never been fishing. And I said, 'Let's go'. And you said, 'Sure.'"

"The most spontaneous thing I've ever done in my life. Well, almost the most spontaneous. By the way, I have a confession to make, Mac. I didn't really need a re-adjustment. I planned that as a way to see you again. Actually on the advice of Randy. He said that you had been asking about me and seemed really interested in me."

"Yeah, I was still jealous as hell of Randy. He had called to chat and just happened to tell me that he had gotten you in bed. I think that he just meant to tell me that he could do very well without me, thank you very much. But he must have figured out from my reaction that the button he really pushed was my attraction to you. 'Hey, you really like that kid, don't you? I'll be damned.'"

"I've never figured out why Randy kind of handed me over to you."

"Neither have I. There is lots about Randy I've never figured out. Whatever the reason, I'm eternally grateful. I just wish he wouldn't slip into his sarcastic mode and remind me that he "broke you in" for me.

"Don't blame Randy too much, Mac. I called him after that party. He was a part of my plan. If I was going to be gay I wanted to know what it was all about. You may be able to live on fantasy. But not me. I wanted to know what this thing called sucking and fucking was really like."

"So why didn't you call me instead of Randy."

"I guess I had too much respect and admiration for you. After all I've known you almost all my life. Your touch had always so comforting on my stubs as you had fitted me time and again. But reserved. Professional. How could I ask you to show me 'how to do it', which I think were my exact words to Randy."

"If you had only known how much effort at self-control that professionalism had cost me. As I watched you grow up into a man, it took all I could do to keep my hands from wandering off your stubs. And to hide my erection as I held them."

"So anyway I agreed to go fishing. And immediately got worried about what I had done. I asked you if I should take a chair or what. I had never done much outdoors. The world beyond sidewalks is too rough and uneven for either a chair or prostheses."

"Remember what I said? 'Don't worry. You won't need anything. Just wear some tough jean cut offs because you'll be scooting down a hill. Oh yeah, bring some gloves to protect your hands. I'll take care of everything else. And we'll sleep out under the stars, too.'"

"So we parked here. You got out the camping and fishing gear and started down the hill. And called for me to follow."

"And I turned around to see how you were doing and saw you walking on your hands upside down."

"Yeah, that worked for a while, but I still wound up sliding most of the way down on my butt."

"For a beginner you were a pretty good fisherman. If it hadn't been for you, we would have had no dinner to fix over the fire."

"But first there was skinny dipping. Remember?"

"How could I forget? My first look at you in the nude. 'God, he's perfect,' I thought. 'How do I let him know that?' I'd seen your bottom but not your top. Those arms and those pecs that are all muscle without being lumpy in the way a weight lifter's are. The blond hair on your arms glowing like a halo in the sunlight. And your beautiful dick between those stubs that also look like big stiff dicks."

"And I looked at you and thought, 'He's not all flabby and scrawny like my father. Look at those calves, those thighs.' I wanted to feel what the hair on them would be like in my hands."

"About then I realized that I was getting a hard on and that the stones along the shore would hurt your precious bottom, so I lifted you up quickly and walked us both out into the lake."

"It was wonderful. The water supports me so well, I had no fear of sinking."

"Yeah, you yelled out, 'I feel so free. So free.'"

"That was it exactly. Free of chair. Free of clothes. Free of fear because I knew I could trust you. The kind of freedom other people know as children but I almost never did. There had always been the consciousness that I was legless. But splashing around in the lake there was no difference between you and me. We were both in over our heads."

"Then afterwards, up on the shore you scooted over and kissed me. 'Thank you. Thank you,' you kept saying with tears in your eyes."

"I was so happy that I did something spontaneous."

"You sure did. You hopped up on my lap. And then I got happy."

"How long do you suppose we rolled and rubbed our bodies together before I asked you if you had anything like vaseline."

"And I did have some. A last minute addition to the fishing gear to prevent chapping from sun and wind. Useful for other purposes, too. I got us greased but did not know how to proceed. I was afraid of hurting you."

"Randy to the rescue again. He had taught me that I can lower myself down on a cock. After that it was up to you. I can't do a thing but hold on for the ride. And what a ride it was."

"It sure was, baby. It sure was. And afterwards, I didn't want to take myself out of you. And you said, 'Pick me up and walk with you still inside of me.'"

"Yes, that was the one fantasy I had had. And we lived it out. Holding on to you, being held by you, attached to you, I was walking. I looked down and saw your wonderful legs. We were walking. One body walking. The greatest day of my life - the day I felt free, the day I walked."

"Billy boy, it made me so happy to make you so happy. Is it too late to make you happy now."

"Of course not, Mac."

"But you're right. I couldn't even get down that hillside today. I couldn't pick you up and take you across the rocks. I couldn't take us for a walk. I'll never be free again either. I'll never be free of what is missing."

"Once was enough, Mac. Once for always. Nothing can take away the gift you gave me." Bill reached out his hand and gently touched Mac's stump. "You need to show me your stump now, Mac. I've been putting off looking at it. I need to get used to your new body, too."

Mac unwrapped it and Bill traced the scars gently with his finger tip. "It isn't as ugly as you said it was."

"But it will never be beautiful and smooth like you are."

"I'm kind of glad. There is flesh there. Thigh flesh. It's short, yes, but fleshy and strong."

"And it feels so good to have you touch it. I've been massaging it a lot. It helps me learn my shape. It also puts something between me and the phantom sensation."

"What's that like? I can't imagine anything beyond my stubs. God knows I've tried. I just can't do it. I used to leave my legs on when I went to bed as a kid. I'd put the covers over them and look at the tents of their outlines. And try to imagine what it would feel like to have something there. But I could never feel anything but the belt around my middle and the contact with the sockets. That's one reason I have trouble with your pretending. I'm no good at it."

Mac thought he had better get the subject back to his phantoms. "It's sometimes like a tingling. As if it were just asleep. Sometimes a burning itch where there is nothing. It helps to massage it. Yes, like that. That's so good. Your hand there at the scar feels like you have it swallowed in your hand. The top of the leg meets the bottom there and so it feels like you have all of my leg in you. And you've absorbed the pain. Look, just having your hand on me has got my cock up."

"I was afraid that having my hand on it would keep my cock from going up, Mac. That's what I've been most afraid of. But it doesn't. Not when I massage your cock and your balls like this. I'm not ready for your chair fucking. But I'm ready for some groping. My dick is feeling lonely down there."

-5-

Mac woke up the next morning with his body aching for Bill's presence. He could almost, but not quite, feel Bill's butt and stubs nestled on his knee. He could almost, but not quite, feel the pressure of Bill's arms around and under his chest. Damn, pretending was so unsatisfying in comparison to the real thing.

His stump ached, too, ached to be touched by Bill. Mac massaged it. That was better. But not as erotic as Bill's touch had been yesterday.

He pictured Bill at home, lying in their bed. Waking up now also, looking over at the legs standing beside the bed, with shoes and pants already on them for Bill's day at work in the world. Before long, he would have to lift himself up to reach for them, grab the waistband that held them together, put on the sock that covered his stumps and protected his genitals, and scoot himself into the legs as he sat on the side of the bed. Then with the help of a crutch and every ounce of strength in his chest and arms, he would heave himself up into position to face the day. At first Mac had tried to help Bill at that moment of the day. "No," Bill said, "this is my daily battle. Not yours." So Mac had watched day after day, admiring Bill's strength and determination. Watched silently because if mentioned strength or determination he would get back a tirade of "Shit, to hell with strength and determination. I hate these fucking things. But they have their use. And what's the option, sitting in that fucking chair? Keep your strength and determination to your fucking self. I don't have the luxury of your fucking strength and determination."

And then Mac remembered what Bill had said on his way out last night, that Randy would be visiting today. And with a friend. What was this all about? He had not had much contact with Randy over the years. He did still fit braces for Randy, whose right leg was now also beginning to show the stress of post polio syndrome. But he had purposely kept distance. Randy was just too confusing to deal with, even in his new, clean and sober 12 step persona. Mac couldn't quite forget the nasty scenes at the end of their relationship and the jibes about "breaking Bill in". Yet Mac was also grateful that Randy had actually encouraged Mac and Bill's romance.

Bill arrived promptly at the beginning of visiting hours, walking in with that graceful swing of stump and crutch, and then hip, that carried his prostheses along behind. "I saw my ship come sailing in, come sailing in," sang Mac softly. It was one of their private jokes from their first Christmas together. Mac was trying to tell Bill how sexy his walk was. "It's as if you were kind of bobbing in a boat. And I keep imagining your cock bobbing up inside the boat" And then he started to sing. Bill had said, "I think the ships in that carol are supposed to camels, ships of the desert. So I remind you a camel, huh? And that's supposed to be sexy?" "Not the camel, stupid. The gorgeous hunk riding on it. Is that better?" "Not a hell of a lot." But it was a such a ridiculous image that Bill did manage a little smile.

Bill had gotten himself seated on Mac's bed in the empty space where Mac's leg used to be. He leaned over to kiss Mac. His hand brushed Mac's stump as he did so. "Sorry, Mac, I hope I didn't hurt it. I just kind of fall over sometimes, you know that."

"Hurt it! It's been aching for you." And Mac placed the hand back on it.

"I'm still not used to it, you know. You'll have to be patient with me. But I'm trying." And he began to massage it gently to the accompaniment of little moans of pleasure coming from Mac.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Randy. Randy had changed since the last time either Mac or Bill had seen him. Later they determined that it was the smile that was different. Neither of them could ever remember him smiling before. That was so surprising to them that they almost didn't notice that he was wearing his braces outside his jeans with no attempt to hide them.

And beside him in a power chair was a bearded man with no visible legs, a Tshirt hanging off an empty right shoulder, and a left arm ending at the elbow which was steering the controls of his chair.

"This is Andy. Randy and Andy. Kind of goes together don't you think?" Randy's smile pulled up into an outright grin. A grin of pride as he looked down at the man in the chair.

"Glad to meet you." Andy drove his chair up to the bed and held out his elbow to both of them. Obviously he was asking them to shake it. Mac did so first. Then Bill, very briefly.

"So you're wondering what this visit is about, guys. It's for me not for you. Think of it as an engagement party for Andy and me. But also it's a 12 step call. I've got some amends to make with you guys, particularly you, Mac. Just put up with me for awhile. Listen to my story. You don't have to make any response. Just listen, please."

******

You may remember better than I do that night after the party which I always think of as Bill's debut in society. My memory is pretty well clouded with booze for a lot of that period of time. But I do remember treating you like shit, Mac. I must have said some cruel things and fucked you over in more ways than one. All I remember is anger - at you, at me, at braces, at parents, at the whole world. And then waking up ashamed of myself. And then drinking away the shame.

The only good thing that happened about then was you, Bill. You asked me so innocently to help you be gay. You put your lovely legless butt (sorry, Mac, but you know it's lovely, too) into my hands. Literally. You were so trusting. How in the hell could I be mad at you? You weren't normal. You weren't a devotee. You weren't my parents. You weren't me. So I couldn't fuck out my rage on you.

And then when I held you and helped you lower yourself down on my cock, I had flashbacks of Andy here. You see Andy and I had had sex almost daily during junior and senior high. All the time we were growing up until I escaped from my folks and got a scholarship to college. I never told you about Andy, did I, Mac? I never told anybody about him. He was my shame because he was my love. In the early days the shame was that he was a boy and that we were doing things my folks would condemn me to hell for. Then it was because he was a cripple. More crippled than me. I could pass. I could walk - with a limp, yes, but walk. I could drive a car. I could go places. I was even fairly popular - manager of the football team, yearbook editor, class officer. The other kids knew Andy was my friend as well as next door neighbor. They knew I would get back at them if they called him names. They knew I helped him - on and off the bus, to the bathroom. And they admired me for what they thought was my pity. But they didn't know what we did in his bedroom after school every day.

And believe me, we did everything we could think of and probably some things no one else has ever thought of. That's how I happened to be such an expert teacher of legless sex, Billy boy. You didn't know it at the time, but you got a world class teacher, thanks to Andy here. You really should thank him sometime, Bill. And so should you, Mac, because you've gotten the benefit, too, I expect.

Anyway, leaving Andy was the beginning of my downhill slide. I felt guilty. Ashamed. Awful. But the thought of a life together with him seemed out of the question. Because we were gay. Because he is so obviously who he is. Because linked to him, people would see me as gay and crippled, too. Without him I had a chance - to escape my parents, to make a normal life, to try to pass. So I left Andy, went to college, and became a drunk in no time at all. Getting drunk gave me courage to walk in a bar and face the stares. Getting drunk drove me to glory holes and hustlers. Getting drunk I could fuck the shit out of Mac. When Mac left I finally tried AA, so Bill caught me in fresh sobriety. But after a couple of our training sessions, Bill began to teach me something else. That I was a devotee. Yep, Mac. That's why I was really so mad at you. I looked at you and saw myself. It's not just that I am a gimp. I'm a gimp lover, too. So I fell off the wagon, went on a terrible binge, came to long enough to make a grandiose gesture of trying to play cupid for you guys, went on another binge. Eventually realized my right leg was wobbly for reasons of polio as well as booze. Tried to kill myself. Missed. Wound up in the hospital with therapy and around the clock 12 stepping. Limped out of there determined to face the shame and make some amends.

First step was my home town. My folks haven't changed much. I said my piece. They said theirs. But since I said mine without some of the nasty lines I had practiced in my head for years, they said theirs without some of their nastiness. Then I headed next door to make amends to Andy. I wasn't sure how to say, "I'm sorry." So that's all I said. He didn't say anything. He just held out his elbow to beckon me into a hug. And the rest is history.

That's my story, guys. I'm sorry. And all I ask is a hug. I had to come and do this, especially after I heard you'd lost your leg, Mac. I don't know how you guys are dealing with that, but if there is anything a gimp who loves gimps can do to help, just ask.

*******

"Well, what did you think of all that?", Mac asked Bill after Randy and Andy had left. "Pretty heavy, huh? And what did you think of Andy?"

"Not much to think, Mac, he hardly said anything. I wonder if Randy ever lets him talk. Talking is about the only thing the poor guy could do. I've never met anyone so handicapped before. Guess I've never met any one else missing more than I am."

"Yeah, he makes you look like Superman. And makes Randy look like Super Dev. Makes me look like a minor league dev. Although he is kind of cute, don't you think?"

"Who?"

"Andy, of course. That beard for a nice masculine touch. The empty sleeve for exoticism. The elbow for a kind of turn of with the little tiny finger-like thing at the end of it. Did you feel it as he shook hands, if that's what you could call it?"

"Can't say as I did. And let's change the subject before you turn out to be more Super Dev than Randy."

"Why, Bill, I think you're jealous."

"Jealous of that poor freak. Don't be silly."

"Bill, I've never heard you talk like that. Calling somebody a freak. Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"That does it, Mac. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of seeing nothing but cripples. I'm sick of devs. I'm sick of all this shit. I just want to be with normal people. You know - doing normal things. Dull, stupid normal things."

"You know what you're saying, Bill. You're sick of me. Sick of this stump. You're saying I'm contagious. I used to infect you with normalness. Now I'm infecting you with crippledness. I'm no good for helping you fool yourself into forgetting your own crippledness. Is that it?"

"Maybe something like that. Anyway I'd better go before this gets any worse. I need some time. Some space. Without cripples."

Bill lifted himself up on to his legs. And started towards the door without a kiss for Mac.

Mac yelled after him. "Yeah, go home by yourself. No cripples there but you. You gonna go to bed with your legs on and pretend they're real? Lots of luck, asshole." Mac's stump ached. His heart ached. He felt like throwing up.

Hours later he was just reaching for the telephone to call Bill when the phone rang. Bill had beaten him to the apology. "Can you forgive me, Mac, for being such an asshole?"

"Can you forgive me for calling you that?"

"Yes, because that's what I am. About all I've got down there is an asshole. And I keep wanting to deny that."

"It's one of your better features, Bill. I love your asshole."

"Be serious, Mac. These last few days have really upset me. I thought I was fine with your amputation. I wanted to be fine with it because I wanted to support you. (That's a laugh. 36 inches of me to support 6'3 of you. But you know what I mean.) And I've blown it because it's too close to home for me. Please be patient with me, Mac."

"Ok, baby, ok. By the way, I didn't get a chance to tell you that I am being released tomorrow. Do I still have a home to go to? Or do you want to go somewhere else for awhile."

"Don't be silly. This is your home. I'm my problem. Not you. You just remind me of my problem."

"I love you, Bill. You are not a problem for me. Don't forget that."

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