Jeremy and I had been friends since the year One, gay, and we reveled in each other's company as long as anyone could remember. We went off to college together and were both comfortably situated in our respective professions. I fell for Architecture and he for Accounting. We vacationed together and had given some thought to moving in together. Family pressures had, so far, gotten in the way of THAT scheme.

At 25, we were invincible and nothing was beyond our reach. We also discovered (there are no secrets among such friends) that we were devs. We spent most of our free time together and became almost intoxicated by the sight of a wonderful stump, especially if on a sharp guy about our age. We would take any kind of risk to get closer for a better look and were never hesitant about striking up a conversation if he looked receptive.

While we both were very "into" amps, Jeremy was ready to go even further. "How would you feel," he said, one day when we were just killing time, "if I were an amp?"

I was shocked, at first. I really didn't know what to say. "Whatever gave you THAT idea?" I exclaimed.

"Well," he replied, "it is something that has been eating at me for years. I never mentioned it because I wasn't sure how you would take it, but I couldn't keep it in, anymore." He paused and looked me straight in the eye. "How WOULD you feel?"

"You didn't give me much advance notice for such a bombshell, honey. Can I have a few minutes?" I grinned at him and he must have taken this as a bit of a confidence-builder because his furrowed brow lightened immediately.
"Take all the time you need, cutie. I am still in the thinking stage." He came up and gave me a hug. Jeremy and I talked casually about what he was scheming to accomplish for the next few days, but it was largely from the point of view of how much he needed to do it and not what was to be done.

The subject didn't come up for a couple of weeks, probably by design on both our parts. Jeremy was at my place one night and, perhaps, spurred by a lull in the conversation, cast me a long look.

"I would be less than honest if I said I hadn't given it any thought," I replied. "My honest answer...I wouldn't love you a whit less!" I thought Jeremy would wet his pants. He face lit and he practically leapt on me and hugged me...and I, him. "After all," I continued," how much more convenient if I could feed my urges under my own roof rather than having to go out looking for the amp of our dreams."

The next day, when he had come down from the high of the enthusiasm for his plan, he began to talk about preparations he had begun to make.

"I don't know how I was so lucky," he began over morning coffee.

"While surfing the Net and making discreet inquiries and visiting this and that chat room, I happened across a surgeon who is about ready to retire from practice. He was in a dev site and we struck up a conversation. Nothing of consequence, at first. He had created a number of stumps in his career and never lost his appetite for doing it."

"Sounds like Kismet to me," I replied. "We are both intense devs, Jeremy, but I never dreamed that you were a need2be."

"Honey, it was something that I was ashamed to admit," he replied. "I have never pretended, but the thought was never more than five minutes from my imagination. It has gotten to the point where, when I am crunching numbers, they are in inches." He looked at me and shrugged. "I won't be happy until I am an RBK and I hope that type pleases you because no other will please me." He raised his eyebrows and set his jaw, as if he expected an argument.

Of course, being a dev, practically any stump is satisfactory, but I recognized his determination as a sign of the true Need2be. His intent was clear and he wasn't to be deterred from accomplishing it. "Whatever you choose is perfectly fine with me...as long as you share it with me."

He seemed especially light-hearted once he discovered that I would love him just as much so, one day after we grabbed a snack from a stand in the nearby park, I suggested we sit down and he tell me exactly what he had in mind.

His face changed ever so slightly. “I wasn’t as candid with you as I, perhaps, should have been.” He paused, averting his eyes. “It is more than just an RBK that I must have. I will tell you my complete plan.”

We sat down at a bench in a deserted portion of the park. Children played raucously but they were well out of earshot and the path was not one well-traveled.

“I am all ears, Jeremy, and don’t think for a minute that I never suspected this.” I hugged him right there in the open. “Please don’t be afraid to tell me everything. I assure you that my opinion hasn’t changed. I understand that whatever you decide is best for you and that is all that matters to me.”

“I am so happy that I found Dr. Khali,” Jeremy began. I have Googled him and his reputation is outstanding. It is only this aspect of his interests that had eluded the long biographical piece. Frankly, I was surprised that he was so open with me after such a short time, but I visited his home when I went to the Accounting convention last year. That is how long I have been working on this.” He grinned sheepishly.

“I only wish that you had told me because it would have been much easier on you if we could have worked on this together.”

“It isn’t too late,” Jeremy replied, “and there is still much to consider. We can do it together.” “You and I have been the best of friends for more years than I care to remember. You have hovered around me and been splendid to me.”

“Well,” I replied, “ you have been no less attentive to me, and I love it! We are lovers, Jeremy, and we have been for many years. And it isn’t sex that holds us together, either. I love you for what you are, from your hair to your toes. I love you for your charm and your ready wit. What could you possibly do to destroy this?”

Jeremy’s eyes began to glisten. “Here we are…two grown men (even though gay, he said, winking)…crying like two schoolgirls. We have work to do, and we shall start right now.” He rose. “Let’s go. This is not the place to air laundry, especially this kind of laundry. I could use a really cold beer” He grinned broadly and began walking toward home. I jumped up, quickly caught up with him and slapped him on the back.

That beer never tasted so good, nor did we ever appreciate it as much. It served to clear the air for the discussion that followed.

Jeremy began, standing at the counter and quaffing from a longneck. “We had been planning a simple vacation of just taking some time off. No extensive traveling as in other years. I took the liberty of changing those plans to fit my schedule.” He looked at me.

“That’s fine, honey. Vacations are a change of pace, and this certainly will be.” I smiled and he hastened to continue.

“We will go to Dr. Khali’s home. He has a surgery there, for what reason I never knew, but it is well equipped. He also has his long-time surgical aide available who retired at the same time and is willing to participate in what is, obviously, a violation of medical ethics and, probably, the criminal law. This certainly qualifies as commission of mayhem.” Jeremy threw up his hands and smiled at me with his eyes. “Anyhow,” he continued, “although I have turned this over in my mind a thousand times, I must be sure, so this is what will come first. He will remove both of my feet at mid-calf, leaving enough room between stump and eventual pros to accommodate whatever kind of foot that I may wish to try during the interim period.”

I noticed that he said the “interim” period, a tacit emphasis of the fact that this was not the end of the road.

He came over to the sofa where I sat and plopped down next to me. (I wonder how much longer I will be able to do this, he muttered.) “I felt that I must do it this way to be fair to you. I may want to go no further and I can’t pass up the opportunity to determine that for myself because there is no turning back.”

“Well, it is this way, dear heart. You and I have taken wonderful vacations together, have gone everywhere and have been very active. I have decided that it is time for this queen bee to go to ground and is time to shed her wings. I have a satisfying profession that doesn’t require standing, I have you who I know I can always depend on, we have plenty of money…I don’t want my legs anymore. I knew it was in my future as soon as I knew anything at all, and the time has come What do you say to that?”

“Well,” I replied. “It isn’t a total surprise. Yet, I can’t but be taken aback to hear it from your lips. It is such a dramatic alteration of one’s self-image…an even more dramatic alteration of others’ image of you.”

Jeremy looked at me with a huge sigh of relief. He had anticipated a huge objection on my part and it wasn’t forthcoming. “If others don’t like what they see, then they don’t have to look,” he said, with finality.

“I told you, honey, that whatever you decided was best for you will be best for me. Of course, I shall be with you through it all, and we will continue where we leave off for this grand adventure.”

“Oh, thank you!” he replied. I want you to be close to me through this or I am not sure that I can do it, as strong as the urge in me is.” He rose. “Shall we have another?” he asked, raising the empty bottle.

“No,” I replied. “This life change-of-course calls for something a bit more celebratory. Let’s do martinis.”

We toasted this project and then got serious, again. “How much time do you anticipate between this surgery and the ultimate?” I asked. “Are you sure you want to do this in stages rather than be done with it in one session?”

“As I told you before,” Jeremy replied,” you, certainly, and I, probably, would never be satisfied that I had explored it fully if I didn’t do it this way, first. Dr. Khali also thinks this is the way to do it. He has no hesitation at all, by the way, because he understands this unquenchable urge better than most.” Jeremy paused. “He had his own foot removed by a surgeon friend and he says he hasn’t regretted it for a moment. He knows, too well, what I am going through.”

Jeremy’s face brightened, again. “However,” he continued, the doctor and I both know that mine is going to be an even more interesting procedure. You see…” he took my hand, “…I want both of us to observe the operation. This is essential, and I will not be talked out of it.”

Jeremy’s last remark thrilled me. I never had given thought to such a thing. Because our vacation was coming up in a few days, he slyly refused to say anything more about it. He did, however, begin a regimen of fasting and enemas to clean out his system.

We traveled to the city where Dr. Khali located his practice. It was a lovely neighborhood and the parcels were a bit countrified…large and wooded. The house was visible from the street but it was set well back and nothing could be seen of the inside. We drove in and climbed the steps to a veranda-like porch. I rang the bell and it was opened almost immediately by a smiling Indian gentleman who clearly was the doctor in question.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “I have been expecting you!” He ushered us into a spacious home that was comfortably though not lavishly furnished. “Alexander, my aide, is in the kitchen preparing some liquid refreshments,” he continued.

Turning to Jeremy, he smiled again. “You have thought this through, Jeremy? You have discussed it…?” nodding at me.

“Yes, doctor,” Jeremy replied. “We have discussed everything in great detail…everything but the method, which I wanted to be a surprise.”

“I can understand that, Jeremy. It IS a novel procedure that we are willing to undertake, you and I.”

At this, Alexander came in with a tray on which was a single glass that he offered to Jeremy. He nodded to the bar that thus far escaped our notice and invited us to help ourselves. We, the doctor and I, did…martinis.

By this time, I had regained my wits. “What is so novel about removing feet, doctor? I understand from Jeremy that you have had much experience in amputation surgery.”

“That is true,” the doctor replied, “but Jeremy came to me insisting that you both be allowed to watch the surgery He even had the method in mind that would allow this. I couldn’t see anything wrong with his theory and told him that I would do it if he would hold me immune from a lawsuit if it didn’t go as he thinks it will. He agreed and that paper has already been signed. He has also paid half of my fee.” The doctor cleared his throat and nodded to Alexander, who had remained in the room. “ Naturally, I would not consent to anything that I didn’t think was physically feasible or dangerous to the patient and I am certain that his suggestion is a good one. Alexander is my long-time surgical aide. All he lacks is a diploma. He is a competent as I and we should have no problems performing the surgery that Jeremy has planned.”

Jeremy began. “I recall reading an article many years ago, in one of the weekly magazines, about an experimental amputation technique, with pictures and testimonials from the patients.” He turned to me. “I have to see the first surgery because I surely won’t be able to see the second.”

“Let’s go into the surgery,” broke in the doctor. “It will be easier to understand.” He led the way to a very modern-looking facility in the back of the house. “I have already prepared the room.”

What we saw was a spare, white room with large lights suspended from the ceiling over what appeared to be a large operating table. There were various tables on casters here and there, cabinets along the wall, a sink and everything else one might expect in an operating theatre. Suspended over the table were two long troughs.

“This is what Jeremy proposed,” Dr. Khali began. “ He knew from his investigating that we use anesthetics exactly for that reason…to anesthetize the patient and remove him from the realm of pain during the surgery. What he proposed, and I saw nothing objectionable in it, was to ice down the limbs, over a period of two days, until they were absolutely dead to the touch. We don’t want to freeze them and cause tissue damage, or something worse. Inasmuch as the amputation site in each leg will be about 8 inches above the ankle, it will be a simple matter to cool the legs to mid-thigh to a temperature that will render the site absolutely numb to the destruction of tissue and bone. I want to make sure that the leg is chilled so high because I want to eliminate any possibility of some deep nerve being insufficiently done. Jeremy will never be ‘out.’ My experience is that a patient often will faint or have pulse problems when he hears cutting into living bone and I discussed this with Jeremy at great length. He has convinced me that it won’t be a problem.”

Jeremy looked at me. “That is why we had to take all of this time to accomplish this. It required not only planning but preparation of the site and the necessity to spend time here before the actual surgery.” He smiled. “I can hardly wait!”

I couldn’t help but feel proud of Jeremy for his careful planning and for his determination and I was never going to stand in his way. In fact, I was looking forward to the experience.

“Well, we may as well start, Jeremy.” He nodded to Alexander. “Alexander will be your “runner” while you are being prepared. Of course,” he nodded to me,” you will undoubtedly spend your time in this room with Jeremy during the period. There is a comfortable chair and we will bring in a daybed, if you wish. Jeremy will have no diet restrictions, although liquids will be more suitable than solids because he won’t be able to move while the legs are being cooled.

The room was comfortably warm and Alexander handed Jeremy a hospital gown. “Let’s get started,” he said in a jovial voice. “We have all seen everything there is to see, so don’t be bashful. ” He grinned.

Jeremy stripped quickly and exposed that beautiful body, shortly to be irrevocably altered. He slipped into the gown and I tied it around the back of his neck. Alexander had been preparing the table. “This is a bit experimental,” he continued. Notice that the table is halved in the middle and each has its own pad. I had to design it for this specific surgery. The foot is a bit lower than the head, and the head comes up, like a hospital bed, to allow you to sit up. Jump up and try it out.” He motioned to the table with his hand.

“Oops, I forgot,” said Alexander. He went to the cabinet and pulled something out that was shaped like the torch on the Statue of Liberty except that it wasn’t round. It was a triangle with the base removed and the corner opposite the open base also removed and replaced with a padded circle. What was left of the sides of the triangle was slightly flared and cushioned. It reminded me of nothing so much as a ladies’ sidesaddle pommel…and so it was.

Alexander took the “torch” and inserted the base, open circle toward the head of the bed, into a hole obviously made for it. It was firmly fixed. “This was the problem,” he continued, as he pulled Jeremy’s gown up. “Your legs will be pitched slightly downward from now to the surgery. The foot of the bed tilts downward, as you shall see. When the head of the bed is raised, you have the irresistible, gravity-ordered slippage to the foot of the bed. Now, we couldn’t have that.” He grinned. “Now, spread your legs and reposition them around this device. “Jeremy complied and Alexander swiftly pulled his genitals through the circle, which then rested on his pubic bone and held him up on the table. “Oh, one more thing.” Alexander hit his forehead. “Can’t do anything without this.” He reached under the table and stuck a tube through a hole in the “torch.” He pulled it through and deftly stuck it up Jeremy’s penis. He quickly fixed it in place with the saline bulb and gave it a little tug to make sure it was seated. “I guess now you are truly stuck to this table.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy.” He frowned. “The hard part is not being able to eat anything. You eat it for me.”

I could only grin. The doctor invited me for a light supper after Alexander completed his last chore, which was to place Jeremy’s legs in their respective troughs, adjust them for height, sloping slightly towards the feet, drop the foot of the table a bit and level out the head of the bed so less pressure would be put on Jeremy while in his saddle. The troughs had a false bottom so ice could be packed in that space as well as completely cover Jeremy’s legs to a depth of about 4 inches. Alexander would tend the ice, making sure that the level was maintained. The troughs had weep holes at the far ends so water could drain away. Alexander showed us the ice…small cubes, like a commercial icemaker would produce, to make sure that as much of the space as possible would be filled with the ice. Alexander began and Jeremy shuddered from the sudden chill.

I dined lightly with Dr. Khali and Alexander and then returned to the surgery, where I plunked down in the chair and settled in for the night. It had been a long day and I was in no mood for idle chatter when Jeremy was so close and on the brink of a stupendous step. He turned toward me.

“Well…” I replied, “…about an hour and a half. Only about 46 hours left.” I giggled. “The time will go quickly, though, because half of it is sleep time.”

“Aren’t you a great help,” he replied. “Seriously, though,” he continued,” would you feel around down there so I can tell if it has begun to work”?

I wasn’t too keen about moving the ice so carefully arranged by Alexander in the troughs that ran the entire length of his legs but I found a toe and pushed into the skin with my thumbnail. “I could feel a prickly sensation,” said Jeremy, “but not as if I were touched. It must be working.” He smiled. Alexander carefully monitored the water runoff and kept the reservoirs filled with ice for the next two days.

The remaining time passed quickly. I read to Jeremy, took short walks, napped and generally tried to keep his mind off of would happen this morning. Dr. Khali and Alexander were already in place and ready to begin.

The table was split and hinged so that the legs could be spread individually. The right would be treated first. That portion of the table was brought to level and the head of the table was brought up to bring Jeremy to a sitting position. He was wide awake. “Boy!” he exclaimed. “Will I be glad to get out of this saddle”!

Dr. Khali had what looked like a long steel knitting needle in his hand. “Jeremy, I am going to drive this into your leg just above the knee. I want you to tell me if you feel anything at all.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened a bit but he nodded his assent. Alexander cleared the ice away from the knee, the doctor poised the probe and began to push it into the flesh. There was no reaction whatever from Jeremy. The poniard went deeper and deeper. Just a drop of blood appeared around the entry wound. Still no reaction. He slid it past the femur and it struck the table on the bottom. Jeremy watched as if he were watching television. He felt absolutely nothing.

The doctor quickly withdrew the instrument. “Well,” he said, I guess we are ready to proceed.” With this, Alexander brought out some straps and began to tie down Jeremy’s torso…a belt around his chest, cuffs around the upper and lower arms, around his midriff, all fastened securely to buckles on the table sides. He removed the trough and dried the leg, placed a strap around the thigh and tied it down. “This is the final one, Jeremy,” he said, pulling out a padded strap that he placed over his forehead to hold the head in position.

Dr. Khali filled in. “I am doing all of this because have been known to flinch violently when living bone is being cut…the sound with the knowledge of what is happening. We don’t want anything to happen to you.” He patted Jeremy on the head. “ I am comfortable, I am ready, and I can see my soon-to-be-shorter legs.”

Alexander quickly placed linens under the leg, rolled a table of instruments to bedside and the doctor began Clearly, he was experienced, I thought, from the way he took up the tape and measured from the ankle to the spot he had chosen, marking the skin accordingly and then, taking up a scalpel, made quick, confident incisions around the calf that would result in a fishmouth closure. He looked at Jeremy, who shook his head in affirmation. We had often discussed the amputation procedure so the pattern of the cut was not a surprise. Alexander was there with hemostats and reflectors and swabs and produced them at just the right moments. The flesh was separated, tissue was excised that would afterwards be redundant and the bones were exposed. The doctor produced a flexible saw like a string with teeth, connected to a ring on both ends. The doctor hooked each ring on his thumbs and began the back-and-forth motion that indicated he was severing the living bone. When he finished, having satisfied himself that the bones were exactly equal in length, another glance at Jeremy, who was slightly clenched teeth, and he turned back to his work. He used a rasp to smooth the bones’ edges and produced a titanium device that looked like a “dome of silence” that you put on chair feet so they will slide easily. It was polished and slightly domed on one side and it had two burred posts extending from the other, flat side. There were two flanges on each side that paralleled the posts. He took a tool and cleaned out the insides of the bone ends and Alexander produced a container of adhesive that the doctor applied into the cavities. He then aligned the posts with the bones and used a rubber mallet to drive it into place. He took a drill and made holes through the flanges and into the bone and screwed them in place so the spreader device wouldn’t shift during the time it takes for the adhesive to set and to hold it in place if the adhesive should fail before the bone re-growth anchored it permanently. He tended carefully to the nerves, taking care to bury them deeply. From there, it was a simple matter to pull the muscles, ligaments, tendons and fascia around the bone ends and fasten them appropriately and then fit the skin flaps that he had created earlier. He was careful to align the dermal tissue and he closed with fine sutures that he placed very close together, leaving a drainage tube anterior to the stump. The dog ears were snipped and the skin was joined without any pockets. When the job was finished (it had no rough edges) Alexander and the doctor applied first padding, then plaster bandages that would harden to protect the stump, and then ACE bandages to wrap the whole tightly, up and over the knee.

The Doctor sighed and turned to Jeremy, who was smiling broadly. No one had said anything during the procedure and now we seemed to exhausted from watching to say much.

“Before we lose our enthusiasm, Dr.” said Jeremy, “let’s get started on the other one. I felt nothing! Not even the urge to twitch! You are a wizard!”

Khali smiled broadly and stepped aside, allowing Alexander to reverse the table positions so the left leg could be similarly treated. “Remember,” he said, “that no anesthetic was used so you will have to be given something to see you through the initial wearing off of the chill. There will be no pain on the inside, but we did a lot of cutting of the skin and that would make you scream if I didn’t give you something.” Alexander produced a hypodermic needle and the doctor injected it just above the bandaging. “This will keep the area non-sensitive for a while. It shouldn’t be bad by the time this wears off.” He moved to the other side of the table and, in no time at all, Jeremy was looking at two perfectly matched wrapped stumps where his feet used to be.

Alexander began to undo the restraints, raise and lower the bed segments and the doctor gave Jeremy a sedative to help him to sleep. It had been a long day. Alexander was preparing to carry him to a bedroom that had been prepared for his recovery. Jeremy was already beginning to nod but was able to make a request that surprised all of us. “Please stand my feet up and take pictures of them for me…from all sides…even the soles and from the top. I always want to remember what it was I was willing to sacrifice for my piece of mind.”

The days went quickly. Jeremy was amazingly resilient. I just assumed that he was so pleased that every part of his body cooperated in restoring his energy. His stumps became two really beautiful enticements. They were mirror images of each other…equal in length with just a hint of the closures after just one week. Jeremy had almost no body hair, even in the nether regions, and we were both sun-worshippers, so his naked stumps had the additional attraction of deep tan. He also loved to show them by wearing short shorts almost exclusively.

Even though they were still tender to the touch, he wanted me to squeeze the stumps gently so he could get used to the tingly feel that it produced. It also gave him the confidence to appear in public without any pros or stump sox to conceal the ends.

Only two days after the surgery, while the stumps were still bandaged, shrinker sox still to come, Jeremy had told me that he had changed his mind. “Although I ordered these stumps so I could use pros, I have decided that I really don’t care to walk anymore.” He paused. “Why should I invest both cash and energy into acquiring pros and the skill to use them? My job can be handled very nicely while I am sitting.” He looked at me and smiled broadly. “I just love what I have so far so I am continuing with my original plan. Let’s make arrangements with Dr. Khali. I still want to go home and see how I ‘survive’ away from here without legs.”

I could only smile. I never had any doubt that he would go further. I knew, too well, how strong-willed he was, and I knew that he had thought about this path for a long time. I grabbed him from his bed and placed him on a chair by the window. He was remarkably lighter, now that his forelegs were gone. I never knew that legs added so much to one’s overall weight.

Dr. Khali was a bit more circumspect about the new surgery, even as he was enthusiastic about the first. “Are you sure, Jeremy, that this is what you want?”

“There is no doubt in my mind, Dr.,” replied Jeremy. “I want to go home for a while to see what it is like without feet…just to get used to the idea of giving up the knees, too. After all, I won’t be able to walk because I will not get any pros.”

The doctor was surprised at this. “I thought this was the reason for the smooth, equal length, carefully closed stumps…to give you minimum difficulties in accommodating BK pros.” He wrinkled his brow in doubt.

“That WAS the original plan,” Jeremy replied. He shrugged. “I was always going to be a DAK but I at first thought that it would be an experience to walk with BK pros, first. I am so happy just sitting here as I am that I have given up on that. Will you do the rest for me quite soon? I really don’t want to wait at all.” Turning to me, he asked “what do you think?”

“I told you at the beginning that whatever made you happy would make me happy. I just love you too much to object in any way. I only suggest that we go home for a few months and give the ‘new’ you a chance to operate in your own nest. Then, make the final decision.”

Dr. Khali looked at me with interest. “I second that motion, Jeremy. You know that I will do it for you but I don’t want you to rush into this.”

“Of course, you are both right,” Jeremy agreed. “I will go home and play the cripple to my friends and garner their sympathy for the dreadful accident that took my legs, a story that I still must devise, and then figure out how to justify the rest of the affair.” He winked. “You know that I am coming back, so let’s make a date right now…one year from today.” He sighed. “One year from today I shall finally be the person I visualize myself to be.”

I had already bought a wheelchair that I had left in the car during the time we were the guests of Dr. Khali. I gave no thought to it but picked up Jeremy and plopped him on the front seat of the car. It gave me such a thrill to pick up a double amputee!

Before we left Dr. Khali’s surgery, we decided that it would not be seemly for Jeremy to appear unconcerned about the “catastrophe” that he suffered while on a simple vacation so, although his stumps were well healed, we asked Alexander to bandage them, which he did very professionally. Jeremy also wore long pants with the legs turned up just to the level of the amputations. He considered that a very come-hither look among the dev crowd and he always did fancy attention. I loved it!

We arrived at home and I made a point of parking in front so I could carry Jeremy into the house. I hooked my left arm under his knees, causing the pant legs to rise so I could feel the tightly bandaged stumps. For some reason, it was enormously erotic to me…the abrasive ACE bandage was very provocative and my too-tight shorts almost split in the process. I didn’t try too hard to see if anyone was around to see the “new” Jeremy but there would be plenty of time for that. I left him in the house while I moved the car to the garage and unloaded it. I knew that I would be doing a lot of this, now that Jeremy had decided his walking days were over. It isn’t easy to unload anything from a wheelchair. I worked quickly and soon joined Jeremy in the den. Somehow, he had managed to move from the foyer, where I had left him on a bench. He didn’t say how but I was proud that he had accomplished it. I brought in two beers. He was sitting in a hard-back chair and looking at his stumps while swinging them out and in…out and in, as if trying to kick something that wasn’t there. He was grinning.

“Look at these!” he exclaimed. “Aren’t they the best things you ever saw?” He lifted one, then the other, flexing each knee in turn. “and watch this! Look how fast I can flip the stumps. Never could do it this fast when the feet were attached.” He looked at me and smiled broadly.

I couldn’t help but return the grin. I took my shirt off and grabbed his pants. “What say I just pull these gently while you unfasten the belt?” He took the hint and undid the zipper, as well. He then lifted himself up by the arms of the chair and the enveloping fabric slid slowly down the legs. He extended his legs and lifted them slightly, so they were pointing at my chest. It was exhilarating to see the tight stump wraps come into view. I flung the pants aside as he settled back into the chair. I aimed his stumps at my shoulders and leaned against them. I had always enjoyed his feet in this position but this was different. Now, I was so close to him that I could almost reach his crotch, especially in the condition it had risen to. He moved the stumps slowly against my skin and I shivered.

“I can’t believe the high that your stumps give me whenever I think about them!” I grabbed each one and squeezed the bandages. Jeremy stiffened. “Does that hurt?” I said, anxiously.

“Not at all,” he replied. “It is pumping me up! I have heard that leg stumps often become sex centers but I only half believed it.” He moaned. “I sure believe it now!”

I squeezed more, and then I began to unwrap the left stump. I had to feel the flesh. As the bandage stripped off the stump expanded slightly. Suddenly, it was completely bare…a solid mass of muscle and ligament, flat across the end without a bit of superfluous skin…neither corners nor tags. The closure was a very fine line around the back edge of the stump. Already, it was hardly visible. I took the stump in both hands and slowly pulled along it from the knee to the end. The skin was firm. When I got to the end I kneaded it with my thumbs. Jeremy began to squeal with delight.

“I didn’t think anything could be this good!” he cried. He withdrew the right stump and quickly unbandaged it. “Do that with this one, too! Please!”

We quickly fell into our usual routines. Jeremy loved his work and had a large account list. His office staff were surprised when he returned to work in a wheelchair but it quickly became a commonplace and, after the initial barrage of questions, they ignored it completely. He took to dressing in golf shirts and Capri pants, which proved to be just the right length. Both stumps peeked out from under. He wore shrinker sox at home but never in public. He wanted everyone to feast his eyes on the gorgeous, smooth, flat-end stumps. I loved that look and we spent more time together than ever.

Neither of us had to work anymore and I preferred to spend all of my free time at home, so I decided to be a househusband, allowing Jeremy to continue to work on his private accounts for his own entertainment.

I talked Jeremy into closing his own home and moving in with me. I could see that he was no longer interested in keeping a house by himself, even with help, and I had room for him to have an office where he could work on his private accounts uninterrupted by his employees. And so it was done.

“It is about time you did this, “ I said to him on the day of the move. “We have been much more than an item for years, now, and there is no reason why we shouldn’t live together. Besides…,” I took a swig from a longneck, “I wasn’t seeing nearly enough of you!”

Jeremy smiled and heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t difficult at all. I always knew it would happen, and this bit of surgery,” he held up his stumps and pulled the pant legs gently back, “just hastened it a bit. Boy! This beer is good after such hard work.”

He slid off the chair and came to me on his knees. “I still can’t get over how different it is to move on my knees without having to hold up my feet. I just love it.” His face clouded. “You aren’t mad at me, are you, honey, because of this?”

I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was to grab him under his arms and lift him onto my lap. “How can you even think that, Jeremy? You were always the most gorgeous guy I ever knew. Stylish, trim, clever, witty…now, you are just a little shorter.” I paused and took another swig. “But you are still my lovely Jeremy.” I thought I better try harder to convince him of my bona fides, so I lifted him up, rising from the chair at the same time, and turned, placing him in the chair. “Let me sit in your lap, honey, because we are approaching the day when that will no longer be possible.” I straddled his legs and extended the stumps with my hands while kneading the ends with my thumbs. I could feel Jeremy hardening even as his body perceptibly stiffened. I continued, slowly increasing the pressure. I was, suddenly, as hard as Jeremy. “I didn’t think I could EVER be so turned on by a stump, even your stumps, honey, but this is indescribable.” I began to rub the stumps with my palms. I loved the feel of his smooth skin and solid tissue. “I love these stumps, Jeremy. Are you sure they must go?” I looked at him plaintively.

Jeremy smiled, wiping a tear away. “I would give you anything, dear heart, but I cannot give you these. They MUST go.”

As the months passed, and we did our thing, we often played in this fashion, but this was the only time that the subject of whether Jeremy made the right decision came up.

Jeremy was never very physical or acrobatic and so he used the wheel chair whenever he had distances to cover, even in the house. He tried to do handstands, just for the experience, and succeeded, but he was shaky and so didn’t rely on that as a method of locomotion. Obviously, his stumps were too long to conveniently hand-walk. Their weight and position were such that, even if held up, caused his center of gravity to change, making it difficult for him to swing them through his arms. (I recall him exclaiming on one such occasion “Damn these things! They are even more in the way than I expected!”) It was lucky that the house had been constructed with generously large door openings so few alterations had to be made. One thing that we did agree on quickly was a toilet in our private bath that was a few inches above the floor, in anticipation of his needs. He could “fall” out of bed, arm-walk to the commode and easily swing onto it. To the rest of us, however, it looked like a toy. He would sit on it, occasionally, with his stumps extended, and blush, then giggle about how it fit him just so. I could see the advantage, however, when the stumps were gone. I would occasionally lift him to the kitchen counter and to other places that he might eventually use as roosts, just to acclimate him .

Jeremy had also gotten carpenter’s kneepads. It mattered not to him that the knees would shortly be gone. He wanted them to be lovely all the time…and they were. He also refused to use the stumps unless absolutely necessary, such as when they were in the way. Then, he might kneel. Otherwise, he lifted himself from chair to bed to car. He didn’t even mention the possibility of stubbies, just for the experience. He was so deeply of the belief that he was not intended ever to have legs that he refused to use them. He simply pretended that his legs, even his stumps, were not there. He often made a lap for me to sit on. I am sure he did this to humor me because he many times repeated that he was determined never again to stand on his own legs. He never complained about those little inconveniences. Around the house, he wore short shorts…just the length he had in mind for his stumps.

I must confess that watching him work his way around the house was bittersweet. Everything was just a little more difficult; required a little planning. He could no longer run up and down the stairs. It wasn’t easy for him to reach the faucets from his chair, or to open a door and close it after him. He became very adept, however, and he was aided immeasurably by his custom chair that he designed. It was short, narrow and the seat was placed on a hydraulic lift that he could operate by pumping a piston attached to an armrest. It lifted the seat just enough to make the faucets accessible, and clothes hanging on racks. The weight of the piston assembly was sufficient to maintain a low center of gravity so there was no danger of tipping.

I was amused, however, by how carefully he tended to his appearance when we went out on the town, or even shopping at the mall. Again, the pants were just long enough to show the stumps, which were NEVER socked, and tight shirts that revealed the contours of his well-built arms and torso. He knew he was eye candy and he reveled in it. Often we would spot a guy looking hungrily from under a newspaper and Jeremy would lazily prop a stump over the armrest in the voyeur’s direction, accompanying it with a sly glance in his direction. We met several interesting guys that way. Jeremy’s bait worked better than that of the angler fish!

I was mildly amused to see, through these months, the extent to which Jeremy was able to make his new configuration adaptable to the environment.

The house has two floors and our bedroom is upstairs. He went up and down head first, just like a puppy would, except that his stumps would splay so he could get each one up to the next step. Coming down, he could support himself by his arms, moving forward sufficiently to allow his knees to fall to the next step. We had discussed a power chair lift for the stair but he vetoed that, saying that he needed to exercise. We talked about this aspect of his “training” quite often, with an eye to the future. It is also interesting that we almost never talked about his determined scheme.

“It’s a funny thing,” he said, one day, “my stumps are good for nothing but allowing me to kneel. Otherwise, they provide no service at all. I can wag them ever so rapidly because the weight of the feet is gone, but what good is that, except to amuse you.” He looked at me from under his brow and grinned as he flipped them madly. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to go only half-way. They are always under foot!”

“Whose foot?” I roared. “MINE!” We both laughed, knowing that it was at least partially true. I certainly had to take over lots of little things that Jeremy could no longer do efficiently. Even his hydraulic seat couldn’t lift him to reach the top shelves of the cupboards and the wheelchair, even though narrow, was still deep, so he had to sit sidesaddle at the kitchen counter or he couldn’t reach very far onto it. The stumps were, indeed, obstacles in a variety of ways. His legs were still heavy, and long, so he couldn’t hoist himself up on to the counter. It wasn’t easy for him to get into the chair if he found himself on the floor. He kept a urinal bottle on the bed stand so he wouldn’t have to trek to the bathroom during the night. A bouncy bed is not easy to climb onto from the floor, either. Knees, alone, are not a great help. I made certain never to complain and he only growled about how difficult he had made things for himself.

Jeremy remained very attentive to his condition and appearance. Every night he applied lotion to his legs and stumps. He shaved them regularly and they glistened during the day. Dr. Khali had done a wonderful job of shaping the stumps and concealing the closures. They were flat on the end and soft as a baby’s bottom. I don’t think I remember Jeremy ever trying to stand on them, even though the Dr. had inserted that connecting device to hold the bones in place and finish the severed ends. I had often whacked him on the stumps straight on just to test their condition and he never indicated any discomfort.

We were in the den one evening, when the upcoming surgery became the subject of our conversation. “We will be leaving for the good Doctor in a couple of weeks, Jeremy. Have you been thinking about it?”

“I sure have,” he replied. “I have been thinking about all the things I can’t do now that I will be able to do, like climb up onto the counters, and move easily from chair to chair, and I might even be able to walk on my hands. Wouldn’t that be a sight.” He sighed.

“I would like to see it, for sure,” I said. “I can see how it will be much more convenient for you.” I hesitated. “Honey, will you do something for me…right now?”

Jeremy grinned at me. “Sure! What is it that you just can’t do without?” At this, he put his hand up to his face and looked demurely at me.

“Well, you may think this funny, but I would like you to try to stand on your stumps. I visualized you doing this a lot but it has never happened. I know how you feel about it but would you please do it…just for me?”

“It is true,” he replied. “I really don’t want to do it because I have resolved never to stand on my own legs again…it seems they are not my legs. But for you….” He slid off his chair, came to me on his knees, and hugged me. “That is the least I can do for you for all of your patience these last several months. Will you help me?”

I squeezed him as hard as I could, even got a little teary. “Of course, honey!” I grabbed him under the arms and turned him so his back was against the seat of the chair to help him balance.

“Look at that,” he said. “My stumps want to fold up. They need feet to keep them extended.” He was right. They wanted to keep a permanent kneeling position.

“So set your mind to it, honey,” I replied. “Extend them so I can put you down on the ends.”

He did as requested and I gingerly set him down on his stumps. They were perfectly matched so they bore his weight evenly. He immediately swung his arms away from my body. “Let go,” he demanded.

“Honey,” he replied. “Even if I couldn’t, I would do it for you. It is the least I can do.” He smiled.

“Not at all,” replied Jeremy. “That doctor knows his stuff. It feels like the stumps are full of padding and nothing is cutting into the tissue on the ends.” He grabbed the chair arm. “For you, I will try to take a step or three.”

He wobbled a bit and slowly extended one stump. “Hmmmm. I have to fall on the stump. I never realized how useful feet and ankles were for walking purposes.” He looked quickly at me. “But that doesn’t mean that we will miss the appointment. “ He pursed his lips and squinted at me.

“I see that, and I agree. I know when you have your mind made up.” He is about 15 inches shorter, now, and so I was looking down on him. “I am just visualizing how I will be looking down on you in a few weeks.”

He replied. “It seems that we will then be in the perfect position all the time.” At this, he laughed so uproariously that he let go the table he had walked to and promptly fell backward onto his rear.

“Just like babies, honey,” he said. They never break anything because it is just like sitting down when they fall.”

“OK,” I said. “That’s enough.” I sat down in the chair. “Come back, here.”

Jeremy obliged, still up on his stumps. “I hope you are enjoying this, honey,” he said, “because you will never see it again.”

I pointed to the floor in front of the chair. He lay down and aimed his stumps toward me. I began to knead the ends. “What are you thinking, sweetie?” I asked.

“In all candor, I am thinking that this is the only thing I shall regret…not having these stumps for you to play with. What you are doing is still incredibly erotic but you will have to make do with much less.”

“Are we “tenting” on the old campground?” He blushed and looked at his crotch, where his willie was rising mightily.

“Am I ever,” he replied. “I have read about guys whose stumps have become inordinately erotic. In fact, one with whom I have chatted said he figures it is Mother Nature’s trade off for having taken the limb. The resulting stump becomes an instrument of pleasure.”

“That is bonus for me, then,” continued Jeremy. “I wonder what it will REALLY be like?”

“I will like it, however it comes out, sweetie. I can hardly wait to see it done!”

It is surprising that Jeremy didn’t become introspective and quiet during the final days before our next visit to Dr. Khali. On the contrary, he couldn’t have been more cooperative and ebullient. He spent his free time on the bed, surrounded by piles of clothes. He was already deciding which would become his new image and which would simply have to go. The latter pile was immense. This was not the sort of thing that one discusses in absentminded encounters so he chatted with me from morning ‘til night. He was diligent about his diet and quickly lost the weight he had in mind. He turned to International Male for a new wardrobe to complement his new svelte figure. He made sure everything was figure enhancing. Even the stumps had the benefit of tailored pants, although they would shortly be redundant. Jeremy’s enthusiasm was infectious and I found myself doing everything I could for him.

I am not sure that, in those days, either of us had any notion of the existence or BIID but I am certain that it would have made no difference except to show us that there were others in this world who felt the same way we did. I confess that I began to entertain the possibility of a slight amputation for me…not to make myself the same as Jeremy but to truly enjoy what has, heretofore, been a purely vicarious pleasure. Until Jeremy began to talk about it, I don’t think the subject ever crossed our lips.

With this in mind, but unknown to Jeremy, I asked him what turned out to be a question that was difficult to answer. It was late afternoon and we were having our little drink before dinner. I was reading the paper and Jeremy was half snoozing with his stumps draped on the arms of the chair, dangerously exposing him.

“Jeremy,” I called. He started. “We never talked about this but I have often wondered what, exactly, you feel, or sense, now that your lower legs are gone?”

He pulled his stumps back onto the seat and hoisted himself up. “Hmmmmm,” he replied. “It is not easy to describe.” He wagged his stumps rapidly. “This is the first and the most obvious sensation…the loss of weight down there.” He bent his left knee, put it over the right and began to massage the stump. “Gad, I love to do this…but I love more for YOU to do it.” He grinned, and continued. “I was familiar with phantom pain and phantom limb. For some reason, I never experienced either.” He paused, and became thoughtful.

“Don’t stop now,” I pleaded. “This is getting really interesting.” He smiled, and continued.

“While I was working up to this surgery, I had notions about how it would feel. I couldn’t have been more wrong. If you were to imagine yourself without a foot, you would automatically imagine holding your foot back from participating in any activity, BUT YOU CAN’T IMAGINE IT NOT BEING THERE. That was my experience.”

I nodded my assent. Clearly, I thought, it is like being told not to think about pink elephants.

Jeremy began to “talk” with his hands to illustrate his words and grabbed the stump. “Look,” he said. “There is no foot there. You and I can see it. My body knows it. I have no urge to take a step because, subconsciously, my body knows there are no feet to take that step with. I feel that I have no feet the same way you feel that you don’t have a third arm. You don’t miss what was never there. Strangely, I don’t feel the absence of feet that were, once, there. I still feel whole.” He pursed his lips. “I am not putting this very well but it ain’t easy to describe, McGee.”

He fell to his knees in front of the chair. “As I kneel here, I know my feet are gone but I don’t ‘feel’ that they are gone. They are no longer a part of me and my body doesn’t lament their loss. I have never fallen out of bed during the night because I tried to step on feet that weren’t there. Subconsciously, I know not to attempt anything that requires feet. Kneeling here, I have no urge to sit back on my heels and I don’t have to think about it. I have no urge to rise to my feet. It is like you have no urge to jump over the house. You never think about it but, by nature, you know you can’t do it. It is the same thing.” He reached back and hoisted himself back onto the chair. “Feet are heavy,” he remarked. “I could never have done this before.”

The trip to Khali’s was uneventful, as motor trips should be, ‘cause the only excitement is usually an accident, and we didn’t need any of that.

As before, Alexander met us at the door and we were shown to “our” old room. It was still tastefully appointed. Jeremy wheeled in and enchanted the doctor with his gimmicked-up chair. Although it propelled him and the seat straight up, it could be adjusted to dump him out in front of the chair…like the chairs that assist weak patients to stand from the chair.

Alexander had shown us to the room and then mentioned the doctor would expect us for dinner at 8PM. He looked haltingly at Jeremy, who caught the glance.

“Don’t worry, Alexander. I haven’t eaten anything since last night. I have a long memory for such things. I knew that I couldn’t eat anything before the surgery and so I will wait, with bated breath, for the sumptuous feast afterwards.”

Alexander exhaled visibly and struck a broad smile. “I don’t know why the doctor was worried,” he said. “I told him we were not dealing with the village idiots but the doctor said it never could hurt to mention it. That was irrefutable. It is always better to be safe than sorry, and I knew you weren’t interested in spending any more time here than necessary after the surgery.” He turned to leave. “See you at dinner.”

Dr. Khali’s repast was thin, clearly to accommodate Jeremy’s diet. It was very liquid so a cath would be sufficient to keep him empty. That suited me because I, too, wanted to lose some weight, and I have always felt that eating was here to stay. I never met a meal I didn’t like. The conversation quickly turned to the matter at hand.

Jeremy replied quickly, strongly and confidently. “There was never a question, doctor, as you know. It has been a year since the first excellent job you performed and I have not wavered, even for a minute.” He lifted his stumps and placed them on the table. “These are beautiful, and my true love (nodding at me) would be perfectly happy if I went no further, but that cannot be. I have not returned just to break bread with you, doctor.”

“I am not at all surprised, Jeremy,” rejoined the doctor. “I have rarely encountered a man with such an intense purpose. Now, you must tell me exactly what you want me to do for you in the morning.”

Jeremy pushed his chair away from the table and held up his legs. “These are really in the way and they must go. I have not changed my mind in the least. However, it is easier to demonstrate what I want if we could go to a room with a gurney.”

“Of course!” said Khali. “I am here to serve you.” Alexander immediately rose and moved to Jeremy’s chair. He began to wheel it to an examining room and we followed. In the room, I lifted Jeremy up onto the table and he sat with his stumps outstretched rather than over the edge. “We are all old friends so here goes.” He laid back and quickly removed his shorts and underwear in one motion, then resumed the sitting position. “Alexander, may I have a marking pen?”

A pen was quickly produced and Jeremy began. He widened his crotch area and carefully pulled his privates, stretched them forward and laid them on the table. He was not particularly endowed…just the balls were notable…but he made no mention. He took the pen and marked on each thigh the level at which he expected the finished stump to reach. It was at the farthest point that the balls reached. He turned to the doctor. “I want flat stump ends, well padded, like the excellent stumps you created for me last year. I have no intention of ever rising on them but I like that look and I want them to be able to take an occasional bump. I assume you will cap the bone ends to further enhance the comfort factor.”

“Then that should be done first. I want no hairs on the stumps and I think it will be easier to remove them permanently before the surgery, don’t you?” He paused. “ I want all the hair on the stumps removed…to the crotch.”

Again, the doctor nodded. “It is the work of a few minutes. You are not hirsute,” he replied.

“Your elegant closures should be just off the end, and on the back of the stumps. I don’t want them seen from any direction when I am sitting. That means you may have to work to make a small closure and not one that curls around the entire half margin.” He smiled, knowing the Doctor was very skilled and could do it easily.

Dr, Khali was looking at the marks Jeremy had drawn. “Are you certain you want them so short?”

“Absolutely!” Jeremy almost shouted, then regained his composure. “I am sorry,” he confessed, “but I have been anticipating this for so long, and I have known for so long what must be done that I don’t want anything to interfere with it. The stumps must be just long enough to allow me to sit unaided and to offer protection to the ‘equipment,’ which brings me to the last requirement. Notice that my cock head extends just beyond the balls. It must go.” He looked directly at me and saw that I was taken aback by this last.

“That surprises me, Jeremy, but I said long ago that whatever would please you would please me, so you will hear no objections from me.”

The doctor looked pleased and confident. “This will be a very neat procedure, and an even neater result,” he promised.

“My only regret,” continued Jeremy, “is that I cannot watch the procedure like we did last year.” He paused. “Or is it possible for us to watch this, too?”

“I don’t know how successful I would be in lowering the temperature of your abdomen. It is too close to the heart and the heat that is produced there. There is no convenient way to do it and I am not sure that we would be able to proceed on this occasion. “

“Perhaps, then, you could film it for us, so we can watch it in the privacy of our home?”

Because Dr. Khali didn’t have a “commercial” surgical practice, he could set his own schedule, so we met in his surgery about 9AM. Jeremy had been given a sedative the evening before, and Alexander prepared to administer the anesthetic to Jeremy as he lay on the table, covered by a green sheet. He was as enthusiastic as the sedative allowed.

“Absolutely none,” he replied. I am ready.” He noted the camera set up just off the corner of the operating table and that it was already recording. He looked squarely at the doctor. “You know exactly what you are to do”?

Dr. Khali nodded solemnly. “Everything is prepared,” he replied. “Here is the electric needle. You will feel nothing and you will be wildly satisfied. I guarantee it.” He smiled.

“Then, begin!” he declaimed with such thunder that we all laughed heartily. Jeremy began to fall asleep and the doctor prepared for the first step...hair removal…while Alexander inserted an indwelling cath.

The doctor allowed Alexander to do this, and he worked quickly and efficiently. In no time, the scrotum was free of any hint of hair, and then the groin. He carefully rolled Jeremy and did the backs of his legs. He seemed not to miss a stroke and every stab with the needle resulted in the loss of another hair. He finished and wiped all of the surface with an antiseptic solution and blotted it dry.

I must say it made a great difference in his appearance. I never realized how attractive a perfectly clean groin area could be. It gave me pause for thought.

Jeremy was moved onto his back and the doctor began. The head of the penis went first. He carefully cut the shaft around the tube of the catheter while Alexander clamped off the vessels as they were revealed. Using a tiny needle and a magnifying lens, he fashioned a flat stump end and closely sutured the erectile skin, leaving enough to comfortably expand as it is supposed to.

Turning to the legs, he skillfully cut through the skin and fascia below where Jeremy had marked his thigh. He cut in an interesting curve that would permit a smaller than usual closure, and positioned at the back of the stump. He judged well the length of the bone to be left and applied the saw. In seconds the leg was severed. He cut the remaining tissue away from the bone and placed the segment in an adjoining sink, upside down, to drain the blood. He attached tendons and ligaments to the appropriate spots on the bone, cleaned up the cut edges and applied a titanium plug over the bone end to provide a smooth surface should there ever be pressure on the stump end. He allowed the nerve ends to retract deeply into the stump and then began to work on the skin flap, carefully putting Jeremy’s marked line on the very edge of the stump. He packed the remaining muscle and tissue carefully and shaped it to make a flat stump end. He pulled the skin flap from the front to the back and sutured it carefully. Rather than use heavy-duty sutures consistent with the type of skin involved, he used tiny sutures and placed them very close so that it looked more like overcast than a series of stitches. When he finished, Jeremy’s line was precisely on the edge of the stump. He then turned to the remaining residual limb and performed the same skillful job.

He then began to wrap the stumps. He put a plate with an eyehole screw in the center on each stump end and bandaged it securely to the stump.

“I am rather old-fashioned in this respect,” said the doctor, turning to me. “If I use a stump drain, there will be a scar that will distort the closure. I would rather wrap the stumps tightly and suspend them to make sure the fluids drain back into the body, where they will be absorbed.”

Alexander rolled Jeremy onto a hospital bed that had a frame above it. He strung lines through the eyeholes on the stump plate and pulled them just tight enough to neutralize Jeremy’s pressure on his back.

I stepped back to survey the room. His stumps looked so small, in spite of the heavy bandaging. His legs were in the sink, draining, and they looked much like two pieces of finished walnut wood, especially with the sculpted stump ends.

Jeremy rapidly recovered from the anesthetic. Although groggy, he raised his head to look at Dr. Khali’s handiwork…as if to reassure himself of the success of the surgery.

“I don’t think you should do too much of that, yet,” I replied, telling him what the doctor had told me about the reason for the suspension. That didn’t stop him, however, and he continued to move back and forth.

“I may as well get used to it. I betcha I will be hung this way for a couple of days, at least,” he replied, smiling through his ‘fog,’ and drifted into sleep.

I spent most of the next day with Jeremy. He slept and he awakened. He reached down and felt the bandaged stumps. His fingers ran over the cath, which was still in place. He touched the altered penis, kneading it as if to create an erection. I couldn’t read his mind but, clearly, it was racing.

As Jeremy came down from the euphoria of the surgery, groggy but aware, he looked around and saw no one. He had been left alone to “come back to the party,” as Alexander put it.

He began to do some serious wondering. He looked for his new stumps, suspended as they were, and he could hardly see them. “Shorter than I imagined they would be when I marked the thighs,” he thought. He felt them and the bandaging was so tight! The stumps felt wonderfully firm…solid…stupendous! He raised himself just a bit with his arms and his torso swung from side to side. Re-settling himself, he concentrated on what he felt. He knew there were stumps down there; he had felt them. Closing his eyes and falling still, he could feel nothing. He had never experienced phantom limb with the first surgeries but he laid that to the relatively minor significance of a couple of feet. However, right now, he didn’t feel anything below his hips. He had no physiological feeling that his legs were gone. There was, simply, nothing more there. He had some discomfort…the aftermath of surgery, but there was no feeling of pain from legs that weren’t there. Even the cath was not uncomfortable. It was so comfortable, in fact, that he completely forgot about his cropped cock. All of this this offered him some satisfaction. He didn’t have to worry, he thought, about the inconvenience of either phantom limb or phantom pain.

He tried to move the stumps independently but discovered that the lines were not intended to give him any leeway. They were taut and firmly anchored to the frame and their length didn’t permit the leverage necessary to overcome even his reduced weight. “Tethered like a sow,” he thought, smiling to himself. “Oh, well, my man and I will shortly be back home. We can get back on a diet of real food.”

Jeremy was held in this suspension for two days, covered only with a sheet. The room was warm but not remarkably so. However, on the third day, he began to complain about the heat. “It is a good thing I have just a sheet over me. I am roasting!”

It didn’t seem at all uncomfortable to me. “Really! I am quite comfortable,” I replied. I rose. “Maybe you need a little fresh air.” Walking to the bed I flung back the sheet, totally exposing his body.

“Doesn’t seem to make a difference,” he complained. I squeezed his stumps just to get his attention and they seemed a bit soft and I noticed just a tinge of blue around the edges of the penile bandage. “I think I should get the doctor,” I said as I moved toward the door. For the first time, I saw fear in Jeremy’s face.

The doctor and Alexander were in the office when I burst in. “I think there is something you should see, Doctor. Jeremy is complaining of being too warm and I am concerned about what I see around the bandages.”

We all left immediately and Doctor Khali ran up to Jeremy and looked at the groin. “I see what you mean,” he said, lips pursed. “Alexander, please bring Jeremy into the surgery.”

Jeremy looked none too happy at this turn of events, especially when everything was going so well. “There is no time to talk,” continued the doctor.

“I felt the stumps, Doctor, and they were soft…not at all like they were when you bandaged them.” I looked earnestly at the doctor when I said this and his eyes returned the concern.

“It looks like an infection, but I can’t believe that it has not manifested itself until now and has progressed to the extent it has!” We got to the surgery. “You may remain, if you wish,” said the doctor, and I eagerly assented.

Alexander prepared an anesthetic and quickly administered it. Jeremy went to sleep in just a few seconds. Then the doctor began to remove the stump bandages and the penile bandage. I couldn’t believe what I saw. The stumps were darkening to purple and the genitals were raging red.

“We are faced with a huge infection, here,” said the doctor, looking at me expectantly. “I don’t know where it came from. It may have been something that Jeremy was carrying and, being an opportunistic bacteria, was able to take advantage of that momentary period when his resistance was lowest, after the surgery. Whatever, something must be done…and done quickly.” He looked at me as if anticipating what I would say.

“It is the only remedy at this stage,” replied the doctor. No antibiotics would act rapidly enough to prevent it from traveling further into his system…and killing him”

“then do whatever you must.” I looked at Jeremy’s angelic sleeping features. “I am so sorry, Jeremy!”

The doctor worked without any wasted motion. He severed the genitals from the body with several swift cuts. Alexander was there to cauterize and clamp as needed.

“I will rework some of this later but it is essential that I remove all of the necrotic flesh to prevent the pus from seeping further into the healthy tissue.” He created a new urethral opening and quickly did the necessary stitching to close what appeared to be quite a small damage site for having removed all of Jeremy’s equipment.

He then turned to the stumps. He opened the closure of the left and reflected the skin. I could see the ugly dark appearance of the exposed flesh. As he dug into the tissue, he pulled it apart and showed me that there was a line of demarcation between the necrotic and the healthy. “See?” This is how much must come off, and it is right at the neck of the femur, between the head and the greater trochanter.” He spoke as if he expected me to be familiar with these terms. “I am sure the other stump is in the same condition. Now,” he paused, “do you want me to leave the head and about one inch of shaft, or should I remove the entire femur? It will make no difference with how Jeremy moves or sits, but it may make a difference to him, psychologically.”

“I wish I could answer with some confidence, Doctor, but I think you should leave the head and whatever length. He always wanted short stumps and I think it would be a disaster to him not to have any stumps at all.” I paused. “This will be catastrophic enough for him when he wakes up and finds ‘everything’ gone, as well.”

The doctor returned to his work. The wound was opened more widely and the saw brought into action. Everything was a repeat of the earlier procedure. The bone end smoothed and the titanium plug driven in. He packed what remained of the fascia, ligaments and muscles, inserted a drainage tube and expertly closed the wound, this time just behind Jeremy’s bottom. He did likewise with the other stump. The bandaging was like an AMEX package…heavy and stiff. The three tubes extended to collection bags hung on the side-rail. Soon, Jeremy was back in the bedroom, sleeping soundly while I sat there and tried to imagine just how I would break this news to him when he awakened.

Once Jeremy began to come out of the anesthetic, he did so very rapidly. I made it a point to be standing over him when he opened his eyes. Almost instinctively, his hands went for his hips and he felt the bandaging.

“Almost, honey. There is very little left of either one. It hurt me so to give Doctor Khali the go-ahead to do what had to be done but I didn’t want to lose you.” I bent over to kiss him and saw tears form in his eyes.

“Please! Don’t think about it that way,” he responded. “I always knew there was a possibility something like this might happen. That was part of this great adventure,” He smiled. “…And you haven’t lost me. I know you made the right decision. I always had confidence in everything you did. And I don’t blame Doctor Khali. The first surgeries went very well. Accidents happen and that is what happened to me. It will take some getting used to, but we will survive this together.” He raised his arms. “Kiss me again,” he whispered. I did and he slipped off into a light sleep.

I knew that Jeremy would need some time to himself to think about all of this and so I would often leave the room when I satisfied myself that he was just sleeping and wouldn’t need anything if he awakened. Again, he was covered in just a sheet, and the bandaging rose to the bottom of his ribcage. Now, he looked really small, his arms extending about 8 inches beyond his bottom. I don’t think this had sunk in, yet, and I would rather he came to this realization without company at hand. I wanted to be there and to listen to him in the worst way, but I knew that he needed quiet time for that.

Jeremy awakened and blinked once or twice to get his bearings. He vaguely remembered talking to “his” man who said his stumps were gone. He felt down below and only the stiff bandaging was evident. He didn’t see any suspension frame. Instinctively, he tried to sit up but it was too much for him. He rolled a bit to allow his arm to get under his body and lift him up. He looked down the front of his torso and didn’t see much…only that it ended really quickly. The three tubes were rising from the bandages. He recognized them as the drainage from the stumps(?) and the catheter. He didn’t see any bulge in the middle…and he knew. Jeremy suddenly deflated.

“How can I be anyone’s lover,” he thought. “There is nothing left of me.” He began to cry just a little but wiped it away. “I wouldn’t want anyone to see me cry.” He tried to adjust his position but, without legs, there was really nothing to change. He developed a new awareness of how much legs contribute to a body image. He couldn’t help but think of a king crab. It looks so huge when caught and so small when the legs are removed. He felt around his bottom, again, and was startled at how far beyond it he could reach. “Is this what I have been wishing for all these years? Am I more complete this way? What have I done”!

We enjoyed Doctor Khali’s hospitality longer than planned, but we agreed that it would be best if Jeremy remained on premises and under Khali’s supervision. We both understood that it wasn’t his fault and were more than satisfied with his skill and experience. Jeremy was fed intravenously because of the longer than expected recuperation. “Man, am I tired of liquids,” he exclaimed, one afternoon. Looking at Khali, who was preparing to remove the dressings, he sighed. “Are you a welcome sight”!

The doctor cut away the bandages and totally exposed Jeremy’s torso. He removed the tubes. I grabbed Jeremy under his arms and hoisted him upright, propping him against the pillows. “I know this is crude,” he said, “but do I still have an asshole?”

The doctor smiled broadly. “Yes, Jeremy, I was able to save that.” He shrugged. “The rest….”

“I understand. I realized that soon after I came out of your knockout drops.” He grinned, looking at me. “What a disappointment I turned out to be, eh?”

“You could never be a disappointment to me, Jeremy. I am sorry for you, but I don’t need to see those gorgeous legs any more than you need them.” He gazed into the mirror that Alexander was holding at the foot of the bed. “Not much left, is there.” He scratched his groin. “I am going to miss those. They needed special care and handling.” I couldn’t help but smile at the lighthearted manner with which he was dealing with these extraordinary developments.

Jeremy continued to explore with his hands, keeping one eye on the mirror. He felt the closures. The doctor had done his usual professional job. The scars were hardly visible after only a week, and the sutures were so close that they appeared to be a ribbon rather than a series of stitches.

“The sutures will be absorbed, Jeremy,” said the doctor. “But if you want me to remove them….”

“I don’t think so, doc,” replied Jeremy. “I can wait. I can’t stand pain.” He extended his arms, palms out, as if to prevent the doctor from approaching. “If it was one or two, that would be different, but a thousand?” He smiled wanly.

“I will leave you guys for a while. Of course, you may stay as long as you wish, but I think you would rather sleep in your own beds…or is it bed?” He smiled at his little joke and left with room, followed immediately by Alexander.

“Home, James, and don’t spare the horses,” replied Jeremy. I am ready as I will ever be. I need to think this through. It is still the excitement of the event, so to speak.”

“Let’s head home, then. We can get there in time for dinner.” I gathered some clothes from the closet. “How about shorts?”

“Why not? I gotta get used to the new me, and I may as well start now.” He slid down flat on the bed and allowed me to put some shorts on him. ‘I sure don’t need anything with legs. These shorts are like a skirt!” I slipped a tank top on him. “We don’t need shoes and sox, anyhow.”

“Not quite,” I rejoined. “Here is a kind of sock. The doctor said you would be more comfortable if you wore this.” I held up what looked like a woven lycra basket. It was small so I had to struggle to pull it on. It was very stretchy. “Hmmmmm. This is the smallest your caboose has ever been!”

“Boy! Does it feel wonderful! The bind, the tightness on the bottom is indescribable!” Jeremy’s face really lit up. “Just let me lie here, awhile, and enjoy it.” Watching as we left the room, he made no attempt to lever himself into a sitting position. He was unnerved by the exquisite feeling of his bottom being tightly enclosed. He ran his hands over the lycra and it was oh, so smooth! And the fit was so tight around the crotch! It was obvious to any onlooker that there was nothing between where his legs used to be, anymore. Strangely, he reveled in that. “If my man doesn’t care,” he thought, “why should I? I really love the idea of nothing down there.”

Jeremy suddenly felt the urge to pee. Without thought, he pulled down the pants. “Now, what do I do?” he wondered. Remembering there was a call button by the bed, he reached over and pressed it. Almost immediately, Alexander came.

‘If you please, Alexander,” pointing to his crotch. “I gotta go.” Alexander grinned and fetched something that looked like a bedban but that had a funnel-like lip lined with soft rubber.

“Remember where you pee from, now, Jeremy?” he asked as he pushed the lip just under the new eurethral hole. “No more aiming the stream. It just comes so you have to remember not to try a urinal unless you sit in it, which would be an unusual sight for others present.” He grinned. “Okay. Let fly.”

“Even in my state of advanced mental deterioration,” I replied, “I don’t think that is a realistic possibility. Stalls are now my relief of choice.” I released the sphincter and I could feel my bladder emptying, although there was no sensation of voiding as I was used to when the urine passed through the penis.

“Doctor Khali has devised a soft rubber funnel with a long neck that you may find useful, Jeremy,” said Alexander. “It would be convenient if you caught yourself in a situation where there were no convenient stalls. A tree would do.” He grinned. “It isn’t something that you can attach to your body, however. Down there, the area is to confined and too small. He was able to devise no way to attach the funnel securely to that area. The next best thing is the soft texture of the funnel. It allows you to hold it tight to the skin and the seal created prevents any urine from running down your skin.”

Alexander nodded his assent and withdrew from the room, leaving Jeremy to his thoughts. “That funnel sound like a great idea,” he thought. “It is easy to carry, and small, and I wouldn’t have to have it all the time…just when the circumstances indicated it may be useful.” He pushed the call button, again.

This time, I accompanied Alexander. “Nothing important,” he sang out, looking at me. “It is time to go home.” He grabbed that tiny stretch fabric bag and pulled it vigorously onto his bottom. “I think an athletic T-shirt would be just ducky. Find one for me, will you” he asked, looking at me.

All this time, Jeremy was still on his back. I found a shirt and pulled it over his head and down as far as it would go. It covered him entirely. As he felt it below his bottom, he remarked “I didn’t think I was this short. Alexander,” looking at the aide. “Will you please measure me? I really want to know how tall I am.”

“I can tell you that already, Sir,” replied Alexander. “You are 27 inches tall…or long, if you prefer.” He grinned slightly. “May I get your wheelchair for you?”

Here, I broke in. “As long as I am the logical one to become his manservant…” here, I grinned, “…let me have the pleasure of the first carry.” I strode to the bed and lifted Jeremy up by his armpits. He was so light that when I hefted him up he nearly flew out of my arms. Suddenly, he was a featherweight.

“I followed Alexander out to the car, which he had drawn up to the porte-cochère in the front where Dr. Khali was on the stoop. He opened the door on the passenger side so I could put Jeremy in. I mad a point of sitting him a bit from the back of the seat so he could lean against it. He grabbed the seatbelt and fastened it.

I knew not to be too “in your face” with Jeremy while he was adjusting to the new “him.” Although I was often able to hear him talking to himself, even what he was saying, when he thought he was alone, I took care never to let on that I knew what he was thinking. Our home is spacious, but there are many smallish rooms, making it easy to be close to him without revealing myself. I was generally interested in his progress because it directed my behavior toward him. I then felt I knew how far I could go in making a joke, or assisting or doing whatever else I could to make his rehabilitation easier. Funny word, “rehabilitation.” The root could be “re-clothed,” or “restored,” but neither seemed to fit in Jeremy’s case. What happened to him was not anticipated but certainly it existed as a possibility so he didn’t have to start from scratch to remake his life. He had thought about this type of environment for years and so had to make additional adjustments. I had confidence that he would not only survive, but flourish, if he were permitted to find is own way, and ask for help when he thought he needed it. As I look back, I am confident that I made the right decision.

I remember one time shortly after we returned from Dr. Khali’s following the final surgery. (Fortunately, Jeremy had had no more trouble, so our contact with him was by phone, and about relatively insignificant matters of care.) I was fussing in the kitchen and he was in his chair in the den. He began to mutter….

“Well, Jeremy, my man, you have a long row to hoe, all of a sudden. Good thing you are in great shape.” He reached for a magazine and discovered that his reach was limited by the length of his arm. It dawned on him that he could no longer lean forward or to the side.

That dawning was, all of a sudden, daunting. Jeremy had always been an extreme need2be DAK, a necessity that he had kept well hidden for all these years, even in the face of our long-term relationship. Thinking back, he now realized that he had never thought beyond the obvious inconveniences, like using a wheelchair all the time, a prospect that he rather enjoyed anticipating. There was never a thought about the myriad other little things, so taken for granted, that would loom so large…after the fact. Granted, what he found himself in now was hardly in the picture. The last thing on earth he gave thought to was the possible TOTAL failure of the surgery he so hungered for. Sure, he knew he might lose a bit more than the optimum length he was going to demand from his surgeon, but this?

This flew through his mind in the instant following his unsuccessful reach for the magazine. He adjusted himself with his arms in his wheelchair and sang out: “Don’t mind me, sweetie. I have some things to rediscover.” His lover, in the back of the house, sang back “Yep. Have fun.” Jeremy could now fall into his thoughts.

He was wearing that lycra “bottom” furnished by Dr. Khali, and he found it quite comfortable. He wheeled into the bathroom and up to the full-length mirror before which he so often, B.S. (before surgery) admired his well-developed body. He recalled admiring his transitional stumps, that lovely, matched pair of BKs the doctor had so beautifully fashioned even while knowing they would not be there very long. His sweetie was always around to provide help while he was recovering from the surgery, even at home. He decided to look closely at his new body and reached down to remove the “pants.”

“I am hardly sitting in this chair,” he thought. “Leaning is more like it. And how am I supposed to get this thing off? It was so easy when I could move first to one side and then to the other. Hmmmm. I have no sides to move onto or off from. If I lift myself off the seat with my arms, then I have nothing to pull it off with. What a hell of a thing THIS is! “

He succeeded by pulling the body sock down to the seat of the chair and simultaneously lifting his torso off the seat with his elbows on the chair arms and maneuvering his hands to yank the garment out from under. “I am going to have to figure out a better way to do this, or not wear such a thing. Maybe a tunic that can be belted to keep it down.” He grinned, thinking about the guilty pleasure of not having to wear anything under it.

The grin quickly faded as he contemplated why he should need any underwear. “It isn’t easy for me to indecently expose myself, he thought. I don’t have anything left to expose!” Jeremy drew himself upright with his hands and gazed into the mirror. The 6-pack abs were striking. What was not there was also striking. There was a pointed, narrow bottom of the torso and a discolored though perfectly smooth crotch. “No wonder I can’t sit,” he thought. “There is nothing to sit with. I would be shorter but would probably be better off without the pelvis. At least I would have a flat bottom. I wonder if THAT is in the cards.”

As is often the case, being near a bathroom or water often induces the urge to relieve oneself. So it was with Jeremy. He leaned back in the chair and turned it to face the two toilets…the standard one and the short one he had constructed when he returned from the DBK surgery. “Now, what,” he thought. He moved toward the standard one and locked the chair wheels. He began to transfer himself from chair to seat and promptly went through the seat ring. Fortunately, there was nothing to squeeze and he caught himself and withdrew from the strictures of the seat, relieving himself as he held his torso over the seat. “I can see I shall have to do something about this, too.” He noted the short toilet had the same type of seat and so wouldn’t do, either. He was even more likely, now, to use that seat because handwalking from bed would be more convenient than climbing into a chair. His mind working quickly, he resolved to have a seat made that would accommodate him without allowing him to pass through. After all, he didn’t need much of a hole. Both “exit” holes were very close together. He began to envision a form-fitting basin-like seat with a narrow opening that expanded in the back (for obvious reasons). Jeremy grinned, again. “This is beginning to be fun,” he thought, as he returned to his chair and took another look at himself in the mirror in all of his naked glory.

Since the return from the clinic, Jeremy had been helped to move around by his lover. This was his first truly independent “voyage of discovery.” He rolled to the closet to gaze, longingly, at clothes that were quite out of reach. He began to think about other uses for the now irrelevant trouser racks. This persuaded him that he really wasn’t indecent, if naked. The house was warm; he was comfortable and he decided that when he did use clothes, an extra-large T-shirt would be just perfect. That nifty lycra bag for his bottom he would reserve for going out and about.

He began to practice moving from chair to floor. Lateral movement, like from chair to chair, or to bed, was easy. Getting to the floor, however, was similar to falling out of the chair. He, again, missed the tiny leverage that the shortest leg stumps would provide. He let himself fall forward, holding himself with his left hand while the right found the floor. Then it was a matter of swinging his torso off the chair and down. He took note of the lightness of the torso without the encumbrance of legs or even stumps and the ease with which he could swing it. He set his bottom on the floor and, without thinking, lifted his hands to brush the dust from it. He fell on his stomach. For whatever reason, Dr. Khali had not pitched his pelvis to create a platform for him to sit. There was no way he could sit up without a prop. He pushed himself upright and nearly fell over on his back. “Hmmmmm,” he muttered. “Gonna have to work on this, too. Perhaps some kind of attachment like a Christmas tree holder for a torso.” He laughed at this concept, visualizing the lycra garment with a backward extension stitched to it that would provide the stability he required until such time as Dr. Khali could rotate the pelvis.

He decided that he wouldn’t need much support…a cushioned bucket that was puckered at the top so it would cling without the necessity for suspenders. He couldn’t imagine himself wearing suspenders. They were SO uncool! Suspenders were for those who no longer had a waistline and so needed the suspension to keep their trousers up. He felt his own waist for reassurance but it provided small consolation.

I purposely hung in the background while Jeremy rediscovered himself. He quickly found that even with his exercise regimen of the past several months, he still tired easily from handwalking. His arms were not adjustable like crutches or stubbies would be. With his arms extended his torso was lifted well off the floor so with each “step” the arms would not extend or he would have that up-and-down gait that would make even HIS bottom, firm as it was, sore. This was enervating. Another problem was that not only did he have to use his arms for every “step” but he also had to use at least one arm at each pause to keep from falling. This meant that only one arm got a rest at any one time unless he was able to lean against a convenient something around the house. He took advantage of the unimaginable lightness that he felt from the loss of his lower body to develop his ability to quickly mount a chair by lifting himself and spinning his torso at the same time, flopping against the back of the chair. There were several misses, one disaster, and several attempts that required some tedious turning. In time, however, he was able to flip/spin himself into a chair with a minimum of effort. He thought, wryly, that having nothing to injure or squeeze on the bottom made this task so much easier.

We learned to do a lot of things differently. Jeremy was still very involved in his professional life, albeit from the home studio. We quickly had a “seat” made for his bottom that would hold him up without having to lean on an arm or wall. For practical reasons, the was small, but perfectly flat on the bottom and molded to his general shape. It fit very snugly and rose to mid-stomach so it clung to him without suspenders and it worked perfectly to hold him upright. I was delighted that he quickly adapted to it and it was rarely beyond reach, even if he wasn’t in it, so useful was it to him.

This led to an ever-lengthening of the time devoted to contemplating just what he had lost. Naturally, any surgery, no matter how trivial, can devolve into something serious. Infections don’t need much of an opening to enter the system. He chastised himself for not having considered the odds of accident, although he never for a moment regretted his decision. By overlooking the possibility, he missed the opportunity to decide in favor of his plan even in the face of the potential catastrophe. He knew his will was free but he understood where that will would lead him, regardless of the consequences. He was young; he was invincible. He had a lover who would stand by him under all circumstances. This has been borne out by his lover’s quiet support.

“How ironic,” he thought, one day, with just a hint of a smile. “I think about my ‘lover” but I have nothing to love with, anymore.” With that thought he put his right hand squarely on his torso where his cock and balls had, until recently, been located. It was easy because he was dressed in only a loose-fitting Tee, his usual uniform when lazing around the house and practicing new techniques.

The bottom was perfectly smooth and still tapered to the middle. The few months that had passed had done nothing to reshape for the better. It was never really puffy so there was nothing to recede. He rubbed the entire area, glad that it was firm and pain-free. His hand was already “forgetting” what his penis felt like. He was never much of a “jerker,” but the feel of his cock in his hand was always both stimulating and comforting. He missed this but was never keen about asking his lover to stand by whilst he “grabbed a little lovin’. He knew he wouldn’t be refused but he considered this deprivation just something that he deserved for having been so weak that he succumbed to the infection. At that time, he didn’t consider that his lover may have been waiting for just that advance.

Jeremy had read that it is often a leg amp’s experience that his stump becomes an erogenous zone that reacts quickly and positively to any stimulation, whether by the owner or a stranger. Whenever this came to mind, Jeremy would slip out of his “seat” and rub his bottom with such products as liquid shampoo if he happened to be in the bathroom, or K-Y jelly (he always kept some in the knapsack hung on his wheelchair) if it was convenient. He rubbed in large circles and small circles, and back and forth, and hard and lightly, even allowing his finger to go into his relocated urethral opening. He rubbed his entire bottom, up to his nipples. (He remembered that his lover had remarked how his nipples were connected directly to his cock, so quickly did nipple play, at one time, stimulate him.) He would squeeze each nipple, then both simultaneously. All availed him nothing. He decided to face the fact that there was no erotic future for him…or for me with him...but I would have none of that. I told him that he had kept me in the loop of what he intended from the beginning. If I was going to make a choice it had to be then, and I did. I agreed that I would see him through this because I didn’t love him for his legs but for who he was…and what he was. I told him that what happened, ultimately, was certainly unexpected, but that didn’t make me love him any less and that it was “exciting” for me just to be near him, to have him at hand. That was a tough moment. I remember well how he grabbed me around the neck and wept. He hung on me and worked his bottom to rest on my belt. I don’t recall anything before or since having such an erotic effect on me. I sat him down on the sofa and we just cuddled for a while. It was heaven.

We remained friends with Dr. Khali. His regret was beyond description for what had happened to Jeremy and he blamed himself. Jeremy, however, was having none of that. He told the Dr. that he appreciated what he had done upon his request, and that even the best laid plans, etc. Jeremy was still so excited at having accomplished even more than he had expected! Even I was surprised to hear him say it. I suspected that his remarks were calculated to make the Dr. feel less remorseful but he subsequently told me he was sincere. He had always needed to be legless but was afraid to test me to that extreme when he was preparing for the first surgery. He was willing to forego the total transformation in deference to what he thought would be my reaction. It was Kismet that brought him to this point and he was so happy, and he was equally happy that I took it in stride.

This “bucket” of mine is really a neat device. It is light but sturdy and holds me upright. It is built up to compensate for my lost length so I don’t appear to be sitting on a short stool when at table but not so much that I can’t easily get in and out unassisted. My lover can pick me and it up easily and place me wherever. Very convenient. When I had legs, I never thought about the mechanics of leaning in this or that direction. It was not a problem even after my feet were removed. Now, it dawns on me that to lean means to bend at the waist. Without legs, my waist, just like my lap, disappeared. Now, I can’t lean. I would fall like a power pole. In order to reach something, I must get at least as close as my outstretched arms can extend. I must MOVE closer rather than lean toward it and this isn’t always easy, especially if I am not seated in a wheelchair. It was really impressed on me when, at dinner, I dropped a fork. There was no way I could get to it. For a moment, I felt useless but it was picked up without a word and dinner continued without a break in the conversation. It is these little things that I find so comforting these days despite my happiness at having achieved what I didn’t dare think was possible just a few short months ago…and all by accident of Fate.

My lover is so patient with me. I understand that it is as much a learning experience for him as for me.

I thought I had anticipated everything…everything but the loss of the “toys.” I had forever visualized myself legless and with a cup to keep them safe because pros legs were never in my long-term plan. I had resigned myself to the BKs because I never expected to be able to go further. I thought it would be too great a strain on our relationship. I was mildly shocked when he was so willing to accommodate me in the removal of both feet. I guess I never realized what a prize I have until that moment of enthusiastic acquiescence. I was willing to live with it.

I wonder if he suspected that I really had to have more? Could he love me that much that he would embrace whatever I wanted, no matter how extreme?

I shall strive to be better than ever, more accommodating, more ingenious in acquiring alternative methods of doing things that are no longer easy, like making beds. I shall keep my weight down and stay trim so I am easier to lift. I resolve to keep a sunny disposition. My man will be proud of me!

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