2 comments/ 53764 views/ 1 favorites Examinations Pt. 01 By: owengreybeard The young woman sitting in exam room 2 gripped the edge of the table with white knuckled hands. Directly in front of her, her left foot sat in an emesis basin, blood oozing from the wicked gash across her instep. Her great toe and the two next to it were blanched yellow and blue, since the blood destined for them was now leaking slowly into the basin. The story she'd given me had to do with an industrial steel storage unit. I didn't believe her for a second. Her remaining foot was covered with light scarring, and her right foot was similarly scarred, as well as missing its little toe. Her paperwork told me a lot about her, but the most important part of her was yet a mystery, albeit one I intended to unravel shortly. Shelly was 25 years of age, had never delivered a child, and lived on a trust fund from her deceased parents. Her credit was excellent, and she'd used it somewhat frequently in the last few years, for visits concerning her amputated toe as well as a short stay in our psych ward for depression. She did not appear depressed now, however. Her lovely face was now set in a rictus of pain, certainly. But beneath that was quiet satisfaction, a look of a job accomplished. I knew the look. Her dark brown hair was swept up in a side-pony, and she was clad in compression-style running shorts. Shelly's more than substantial bust was compressed as well, currently struggling valiantly to be released from a Nike jogbra. Her cleavage reached her supra-sternal notch, pillowing out of the neckline of her bra in delicious pale curves. It appeared to sweep around to her shoulder blades in back, and was obviously naturally gifted. The young woman's dark green eyes were currently closed, and her full lips were curved in a slight smile as she turned her face to the sunshine coming in through the window. She appeared to be about 5'5" tall, and except for her breasts, I would have considered her thin. "Hello Shelly, I'm Dr. Abrevia. Are you in much pain?" "No, Doctor. I'm pretty good for now. What's going to happen to my foot?" "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Shelly, but due to the level of injury, we're not going to be able to save your forefoot. What I'm going to recommend to you is called a Symes amputation. I will remove the remaining toes, rebuild the bone structure somewhat, and wrap the remaining skin up over the front of your ankle. You will be able to walk almost normally after some rehabilitation. Do you have any questions?" I watched her face fall after I spoke. I was certain that I had not given her the news she'd hoped for. She began almost at once, expressing her concern over blood circulation, infection, etc. Shelly was well informed and had obviously done her homework. The near panic in her face swayed me, and I decided to let her off the hook. I interrupted her heartfelt plea and took her hands in mine. "Relax, Shelly. You've convinced me. The rest of this conversation must not leave this room, OK?" "Umm, OK." A light sheen of sweat had popped out on her face. This sometimes precedes an episode of vomiting, but she said she was fine. "If you could pick, Shelly, where would you want your leg amputated?" "Are you making fun of me, Dr. Abrevia? Because it's not funny." I pulled up the right leg of my surgical scrubs and showed Shelly my Otto Bock C-leg. "Not kidding, Shelly. I've been where you are." "Oh my God," she whispered. Her hands stopped trembling and the tears fell freely from her face. I hugged her to me. "I'd like it to be 6 inches below my knee, if that's ok," she said softly. "I can justify that on my report, Shelly. I'll do a special procedure called a trans-fibular oblation. It involves placing a piece of bone between the tibia and fibula to prevent the ends of the bones pinching together when you use a prosthesis. It's called "Chop-sticking" and it's really painful. That, and myoplasty, neuroplasty, individual vessel ligation, and a special skin closure will make a very nice stump for you." "I don't want a prosthesis," she said forcefully. "Your choice, darlin', but I need to make the best stump I can for you, and that's what it takes. It's your choice whether or not to use a prosthesis. My nurse will be in to have you sign some papers, and then we'll get started. In about two hours you'll wake up as a RBK amputee. OK?" "Dr. Abrevia?" "You can call me Kate, OK. Shelly?" "Kate, have you ever heard of an amputee named Jeanne Silver?" "Long Jeanne Silver?" There aren't many of us who haven't. Why?" Can you make me... like her? More thin...more, umm, usable?" I winked at her. "As my lady wishes, so shall it be." A few minutes later, I met Shelly in the operating room. As my scrub nurse held her foot over the basin, I administered a spinal anesthetic and soon it was over. Shelly had watched via a mirror for most of the surgery, but eventually drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face. I removed her fibula at the knee joint, and then trimmed the tibia about eight inches from the knee, just to make sure Shelly had enough usable length. I brought the tough Achilles' tendon around the end of the altered Tibia and under and fastened it to the front to form a shield for the amputated bone end, which got an implantable button in the end to make it nice and round. Most of the rest of the muscles were removed to slim the profile of the stump. I took great care to make the final sutures very small to minimize the size of the scar, placed a drain, and bandaged the stump. Shelly slept about an hour, and I was inspecting my work when she awoke. "Is it done?" she asked. "All finished, Shelly. It will be swollen for about a week, and the drain can come out in a couple of days. You can't get it wet until a couple of days after the stitches are out. I have recommended that you remain in the private section of the clinic for a couple of weeks and you'll start rehab as soon as the drain is out." "I didn't know you had another section of the clinic, Kate." "It's called my house, actually." I smiled at her. She really was quite beautiful. "It doesn't hurt at all, Kate." "That's because of the spinal. It won't wear off for another six hours or so. Try to move your foot. You remember that you only have one now, right?" Shelly's eyes closed. "Oh yeah...I remember. It makes me really horny, but I can't feel myself." The sheet rustled as she explored her dead torso and lower limbs. "It feels like someone else's body." "I'm going to start a Morphine drip, Shelly. The spinal will start wearing off in a few hours, and the pain will be intense for a while. This button will let you dose yourself up to a preset level so you will be comfortable, OK? It's important that you not be in pain, so don't hesitate to use it. You won't be on it long enough to cause a problem with dependence, so don't worry about pushing the button. I'll be off work in about three hours and we can talk for a while, if you're up to it." "I'd like that, Kate." I turned to leave and she called my name again. I turned. She blew me a kiss, and without thinking, I pantomimed catching it and pressing it to my lips. "Thank you, Kate," she said softly. "More than you'll ever know." "You're welcome. More than you'll ever know." I left the clinic and walked down the corridor to the private entrance to my home a little after six in the evening. I lingered in the atrium with a lovely Buddha statue and a Japanese waterfall cascading gently down a series of rocks I'd imported from Japan. The statue was a gift from my brother, Dr. Owen Abrevia, to celebrate the opening of my clinic here several years ago. Shelly was settled into a clinic bed in my living room when I closed the Heavy wooden door behind me. She appeared to be dozing, but her eyes opened when I began to type some notes into the clinic computer mounted to the wall. "Hi, Doc. I don't know what's in here, but I like it a lot." She waved her arm in the vague direction of the morphine drip. "Yeah, morphine is the ultimate warm fuzzy. Don't get too used to it, though. I'll be ramping the dose down quickly, so you don't get hooked on it." "I'm just pulling your chain. I haven't actually used it much so far. I have a really high pain threshold. When I cut my toe...umm, maybe I should change the subject." "Actually, we do need to chat about that, and the sooner, the better," I said. "I took a huge chance when I agreed to do this surgery, Shelly. Please don't make me regret it." "Are you kidding? Dr. Abrevia, I think I can say with absolute certainty that you have saved my life! I am totally serious here." "Go on," I said. "I have been fascinated with amputees ever since I had a locker next to a LAE in junior high. She touched me with her stump once when I almost backed into her, and I was hooked, not to put too fine a point on it. I don't remember when it went from a spectator thing to wanting to be one, but over the last few years, it's been all consuming. Trying to arrange 'accidents', thinking of how I could get an infection, or nerve damage, or something, anything to become an amputee. I cut my toe off with a wood chisel, and told the doctor I had trapped my foot in a steel door threshold. I'm not sure he believed me, but he took care of it for me, even saying that 'a little toe doesn't really do much'. He was right, though. It didn't really 'do much' for me. I wanted something more disabling, more... 'amputating', I guess. It finally overwhelmed me a few years ago, when my folks died in a car wreck. I went to the hospital to see my Mom. My Dad died instantly, but my Mom lingered for a few days. I was at her side when she died, and, God help me, I was jealous of her, because both of her legs were pinched off in the wreck! That's when I checked into a mental health facility. They helped me get the compulsion down to a dull pain, and helped me get over the conflict I felt over my Mom's injuries and death, but it wasn't long before I was stalking amputees in the mall again. Wow, I don't think I have ever really talked this out before, not even with the shrink." She went on breathlessly for several more minutes. I felt for her, because I had been there, but it was her story to tell. I recognized the hopelessness, the agony, the overwhelming knowledge that there is something wrong with you, and knowing that it will never be right..."and you'll never be right. And that's when I decided to just do it. I sharpened the flat point shovel I'd purchased years ago but never had the guts to use. I read the manual on the garage door opener, and found out how to disable the down-force sensor and the optical safety system. I programmed the clinic's number into the speed dial on my cell phone. I got a bungee cord from my Dad's camping stuff for a tourniquet. I thought that would seem more believable than just happening to have a two foot length of latex surgical tubing lying around the garage. I put the shovel on my foot and pushed the button. I wanted to take it off high enough that there wouldn't be enough left for a Symes, but the shovel slid on the bones until it hit a flat spot, and then it dug in. the bones were too tough, though, and it didn't go through. The pressure was incredible, but the pain was manageable for a while. I tried to take another try at it by raising the door and dropping it again, but it didn't work any better the second time. So I called and drove myself to the clinic. You know the rest." While I was catching my breath from the rapid-fire storytelling, Shelly's eyes closed and she slept. When I walked through the door from the clinic into my apartment about a week later, Shelly was asleep on the living room couch/bed she'd adopted since we'd moved her bed back to the clinic. I checked the counter on the morphine machine drip and saw that Shelly had not used it, for the third day. I filed the information under the 'satisfied' heading in my memory, and went to find dinner in the kitchen. I have meals delivered from the clinic kitchen, which keeps me from cooking, and gives the cooks something to do that's not overseen by the ADA. I was reading a journal article about implantable pylons used to mount prosthetic limbs, wondering what other cool implements they could 'mount', when I heard a shuffle and turned to find Shelly standing in the doorway on Canadian crutches, her I.V. tagging along beside her. "Hey there!" I exclaimed, startled by the sight. "How are you feeling today, Shell?" "I was hungry, and the food smelled great. Can I have some?" "Absolutely. Have a seat and I'll fill you a plate." I loaded a small plate of food and sat it on the table, along with a glass of ice water. Shelly ate slowly and carefully, savoring her food, and we talked about nothing in particular. I was entranced with Shelly's breasts. They seemed to be in constant motion, bobbing and swaying as she moved, breathed, even when she chewed. I can see the reason for the jogbra she'd had on when she'd presented. Her nipples bulged against the thin gown, nodding left and right as she moved. The gas-passer had said something about her "amazing rack" as we scrubbed, but a dirty look from me had shut her down. Shelly seemed nonplussed by them, and I forced myself to look instead at her face, which was nearly as fascinating. Shelly's deep green eyes were shot through with gold, and her small nose crinkled adorably when she smiled. She used her hands when she talked, and her little voice was soft with just a hint of an accent I didn't recognize. "Would you mind if I take off my leg, Shelly? It's been a long day, and it's a great leg, but enough is enough." "Please do, Kate. I'm curious about it anyway. If fact, can I do it for you?" "Sure. Just pull gently. I'll do the rest." I released the ratcheting keeper from the stud on my silicone sock, and the leg came off in Shelly's hands. She stood it up against the counter beside her and I held up my short stump up to her. She rolled the silicone sock off. She took my stump in her hands as if it were an object to be worshipped. "It's beautiful, Kate. So soft...where's the scar?" I lifted my stump and aimed it toward the ceiling. I pointed at a fine white line on the back of the stump. "It's here behind the tip and up a little on the back. See how tiny the suture line is? My brother Owen did the surgery for me, like all the ones before it." "Other ones?" Shelly's eyebrows lifted high. "That's a story for another day, I think. Do you need to go to the bathroom before I take your I.V. out? "I probably should. My Grandma said never to pass up a chance to pee." She swung easily into the bathroom; her new stump tucked against her other knee for security. I heard splashing noises and then she was out again. I asked her again if she thought she might need the morphine, and she assured me that it was unnecessary. I pulled the butterfly line and taped a cotton ball over the injection site on her hand, and the tucked her into bed. I showered and wrote in my journal a few paragraphs about the day and a few more about the special young woman in my living room. Saturday morning found me lounging in my PJ's, big mug of coffee in my hands as I sat in the living room and studied the sleeping form of my houseguest. She lay on her back, arms at rest, left on her tummy while the other covered the upper swell of one pillowy breast. For reasons I have yet to understand, I felt the urge to draw her. I hadn't taken out my sketch pad for years, ever since I made the decision to pursue medicine instead of art. The figure reclining on my couch awakened some lost emotion, I guess, and it only took me a few minutes to round up a large pad and some charcoal. Moving quietly, being thankful that I was not wearing my backup leg, which tends to squeak when it's cold; I returned to the living room and rejoined my cooling coffee. I skinned my leg off quickly and propped my stump up on the arm of the black leather chair, then placed the sketch pad against the upraised column of my flesh. I worked quickly, conscious of the scratching noises the charcoal made as it swept across the semi-rough page. The image that emerged bore the face and body of my new friend Shelly, but the figure on my pad was almost primal. The woman on the pad looked out at the world with fierce eyes that bore into me with shattering intensity, a hint of a smile on her full lips, as if to say 'I'm the queen of this world, and I don't give a rat's ass what you think about me.' Her corded muscles stood out in animal-like relief against her naked skin. Beside her lay animal-skin clothing, more closely resembling a warrior's girding than a lady's garb. Her left calf was encased in a wrinkled, elephant hide greave and sandal, while a short peg made from a tusk and more elephant skin lay against the stone she reclined upon. Her mighty breasts rested proudly upon her muscled ribcage, bolstered by amazingly developed abdominal muscles. Her shaven womanhood protruded unashamed from between her thighs, lips fleshy and slightly obscene. Her leg stump rested its tip on the ground, as if daring the viewer to feel the pain it withstood. In the middle distance, a saber-toothed cat lay on its side, watching distractedly as it batted at a large rabbit between its paws. I sat back, my arm aching, thinking that I had temporarily channeled Frank Frazetta. My lap was full of charcoal dust and my coffee was cold. I sat the pad down between my chair and a coffee table and stood, stretching. I grabbed my coffee mug and hopped easily to the kitchen. I washed the soot off my hands and arms, grabbed the nearly full hot pot, a bag of bagels and the container of cream cheese with the knife stuck in it and hopped back to the living room. Shelly was sitting up on the edge of the couch, and looked up as I came into view. Her eyes opened wide and she broke into a smile as I hopped into the room. "How do you do that?" she giggled. "Years of practice and design," I quipped, quoting a line from a Mary Chapin Carpenter song. "How's my girl this morning?" I said. "I'm in the middle of waking up into a really nice dream, thank you. I looked down at my stump this morning, half afraid it wouldn't be there. Thanks to you, it was." "Speaking of that, have some coffee and a bagel, and I'll hop next door and get a dressing change and we'll look at my needlework." I returned shortly, and felt oddly self-conscious as Shelly watched me hop into the living room. "You make that look graceful and beautiful, Kate. I don't think I'll make it look anything like that," she said, looking down at her breasts with a wrinkled nose. "You will be able to charge admission, though," I said, and then instantly regretted saying it. "I shouldn't have said that, Shelly. I'm very sorry." She looked up at me and her face was blank. I thought I had seriously screwed up, and then she broke into hysterical laughter. She wiped her eyes finally, and said, "My God, somebody who doesn't tiptoe around my tits. I think I could fall for you, lady. But you have to stop apologizing, ok?" "That's a deal, Shelly. Put your new stump up on the arm of the chair and let me unwrap it, ok?" "I thought you'd never ask. I can't wait to see it." "Remember that it's going to be about twice the size it's going to be when it's done. There's going to be a lot of bruising and swelling. The hamburger looking dealy is a vacuum drain enhancer, and I'm going to take the drain out and get rid of it." I pulled the last gauze pad off, and Shelly looked at her stump with intense interest. It was about the diameter of the large end of a baseball bat, and still yellow from the antiseptic scrub. A fine suture line ran across the back about 3 inches from the end, and remnants of plasma leakage stained the area. The drain tube ran out of an incision just above the suture line. I swabbed most of the color off and cleaned up the bits of miscellaneous gak clinging to the stump, watching carefully for any pain responses from Shelly, but for all the physical reaction the cleaning got from her, I might as well have been cleaning my own tissue. Examinations Pt. 01 "Oh, Kate, It's perfect! When it shrinks it's going to be really pretty. How did you get it so slender; it's almost like I have a cock on the end of my leg!" "Well, I'm glad you like it, Shelly. I actually thought that's what you wanted, so I removed almost all of the remnants of muscularity. What you are seeing is just what's left of the skin with a layer of fascia underneath for padding for the bone. It will be a very attractive stump for you to show it off plus, it will be a stable platform for a prosthetic. I know you don't want to go there, but you may change your mind. The options are pretty wide, so don't decide just yet." A week went by, with me caught up in an extremely busy practice, and Shelly, who made one trip out to her home with one of my nurses to get some clothes and to catch up on e-mails and such. The nurse came back babbling about mansions and acreage and stuff, but I didn't have a lot of time to chat about it with Shelly. "What's your favorite way to be?" she asked on the next Saturday... "Well, at home, I usually hop, as you've seen; I love the feeling I get from my stump moving around. I have my Otto for use at work and when I have a lot of walking to do, but when I want to feel like a cripple, and I know you know what I mean..." "Oh spill it girlfriend!" Shelly almost shouted. "Let me show you, OK?" "Please hurry!" When I'd made my way to my bedroom, I sat on the bed and took some time to think about what was happening here in my home, my clinic. Not only had I exposed myself as a voluntary amputee to a complete stranger, I had violated several ethics practices by amputating her foot quite a bit higher than it actually needed to be done. She would have been fine, actually better, with a Symes amputation, and yet I gave her a mid-calf... And she knew it! If she told anyone who actually cared, I would be absolutely ruined. And yet, I had done all these things. I felt a connection to this young woman, a woman probably ten years my junior. And yet the fog of desperation which had caused her to mutilate her own body was gone, and she was, by all appearances, a bright, normal, beautiful woman. For some reason, I felt that my decisions were justified. When I'd thrown that switch in my mind, I felt the stress and worry drain away, and I was just me, an amputee by choice, a surgeon who assisted others to achieve the body image they felt they deserved, and in the final analysis, a pretty lonely lesbian amputee devotee. I changed the tip of my limb and my outfit. When I walked through the door into the living room a few minutes later, Shelly's eyes flew open and her jaw dropped. "Oh my God, Kate! That is fabulous! What is it made of? It's so beautiful!" She was staring at the glossy, grey-black peg projecting from my mid-thigh leather skirt. "It's the same carbon-fiber socket I always wear, Shelly. I have a number of different legs, including pegs, which screw into it, so I can wear it with different length heels. I just like the simplicity of a peg. You don't have to think about it when you walk. It's not going to collapse or bend at the wrong time, and it's nice to wear to go hiking in the woods. I have a big disc to wear with it on the beach so I don't sink into the sand, and a different one for snow. How are you feeling, by the way? It seems like we're talking a lot about me and not much about you." "I'm getting a touch of cabin fever, actually. I feel great, though. Possibly as good as I've felt in years. You removed an obsession from my psyche a couple of weeks ago." "I know how that feels, Shell, trust me." "How long have you been amputated now Kate?" "Why don't we go shopping, and I'll tell you all about it. Does that sound good?" "I'm good, but I don't know how far I can crutch. I've only practiced around my house." "No crutches for you just yet. I have an adorable lavender Quickie GT I'll loan you for a while, though, if that's cool." "That's better than cool, it's awesome!" Shelly chose to wear, not surprisingly, a knee length forest broomstick skirt and a peasant-style blouse that pretty much screamed, "Look at my tits!", although to be fair, pretty much anything she wore would have said that. I stuck with a mid-thigh black leather mini, with a white angora turtle neck sweater and a light leather vest. I went without a bra so Shell could watch my D's prance with my stump, and shell wore a complex looking Frederick's bustier under her blouse. We were, as my Grandma used to say, "Quite the pair to draw to". We unloaded at the handicapped lot just south of the really nice part of town. I wore my Carbon Fiber peg, and Shelly wore a strappy sandal and black hose, the one on her new stump pulled inside-out at the tip to show off the curve of her stump. I loaned her a pair of leather fingerless bike gloves to protect her newbie-soft hands, and she had the wheelchair down in just a few minutes of practice. It was interesting to watch the eyes bounce back and forth between her boobs and her stump, which was crossed over her other leg. We found lots to look at, and around lunch time we went to a little hamburger joint just off the main street and occupied a table outside on the sidewalk. Partway through the meal, Shelly touched the back of my hand with hers. "Kate, I'd like to talk about what happens next with my stump and with me if that's OK?" "Sure Shelly, ask questions and I'll try to fill you in." "As I mentioned early on, my original intent was to go without a prosthetic, but after seeing you with your beautiful carbon socket and, shall we say, 'attachments', I may change my mind. Is it too late for that decision?" "Not at all, Shelly. I made your stump by balancing what you indicated that you wanted it to look like with the best way to support a prosthetic limb. Since the musculature is greatly reduced in mass, the swelling will take less time to go away, and you're already wearing a compression sock most of the time, which will help. If you'd like, and I think it's a good idea, by the way, later today we can go by my prosthetist and I'll introduce you to her. She is one of 'us' so she's open to interesting, innovative things that appeal to the devotee as well as the bare bones user." "I think that would be exciting. Let's plan on that. Now, as far as my treatment at your clinic is concerned, I feel like I'm ready to check out and get back to my own home. Are you OK with that?" I nodded, fighting the slightly ill feeling in my belly. "The problem is, that ends one problem and creates another." "How so?" I asked. "Well, it relieves you of your duties as my Doctor in the first place, but I have to tell you that I have been dreading moving back home. I've grown so fond of you that I don't really want to think of not seeing you every night, Kate. I had to tell you that, in spite of the fact that I don't know where you stand on having a relationship with another woman." She looked up at me when she'd finished speaking, and her eyes shone with moisture. "I'm totally opposed to having a relationship with another woman, Shelly." I heard her intake of breath, and continued quickly. "But I'd give anything to have a relationship with you." I leaned into her and did what I'd wanted to do since I'd seen her sitting on an exam table nearly a month ago. I kissed her. Examinations Pt. 02 Shelly's lips were firm and lush, and the breath from her nostrils smelled vaguely of ketchup and French fries. I thought it was the most remarkable breath I had ever smelled. Her hand went to the back of my neck and tightened slightly on the loose hair at my nape. Shelly's tongue darted against my lower lip for a moment, and my own darted out to chase hers, but it was already safe within her lips. My nipples gave a fierce pinch as they hardened instantly, and I am certain I heard my pussy squeeze in a powerful spasm. "Ohhh, that was truly, truly fine," she whispered when we separated. I was actually breathless. "It's been years since I've had a kiss like that." "You've got me there, Kate. I know for a fact that I have never been kissed like that." The world disappeared as out lips met again, this time our tongues danced around each other delicately, slowly. Shelly moaned softly into my mouth and my breath hitched almost as if I were going to cry. "Do we really have to go to the prosthetists? I'd much rather go to my house right now," Shelly breathed into my ear. "Me too, darlin', but I asked her to meet us there, and she's making a special trip. I'd feel bad to cancel on her now." "OK. I guess the anticipation will be fun." I got up and sashayed to the counter, putting a little more snap in my peg than I had to. Shelly glided up beside me and slyly put a hand on my inner thigh. Her thumb brushed my pouting pussy lips a couple of times, and I shivered with excitement. We took the elevator to the third floor of the parking garage, and as the door closed, I slid my peg over her and sat on her lap. I tilter her head back and kissed her frantically, my hand brushing a huge projecting nipple through her blouse. As the bell for the floor ran, I leapt to my foot and spun around, just as the door opened and a young couple entered the elevator. I assumed a disinterested look on my face and stood well apart from Shelly, whose mouth was parted in obvious lust. The couple looked at each other and I realized that the elevator smelled like aroused pussy. After we'd exited and the elevator door closed behind us, I burst into laughter. "Those poor kids! Do you think they know how horny I am?" "If they've ever smelled that smell before, they'll know in a heartbeat!" Shelly said through her smile. "Hey, I want to go to my house before we go the prosthetic shop, OK? I want to use my car today, if you don't mind." We got into my Range Rover and Shelly directed me out into the country. Several miles out of town we turned into a narrow paved road and almost immediately came to a security gate with a keypad. "The combo is '2678833'", she said. "It's 'amputee' on a phone keypad." The gate swung open and we drove for about 5 minutes before we came to an absolutely breathtaking home. Designed in the style of s Japanese compound from the 1400's the single level house lay surrounded by an immaculate oriental garden. Separate from the house was a similar building with four garage doors, the furthest right-hand one with a small blood trail leading down to a drain. Shelly got out into the quickie and wheeled to the wall near the third door from the left. She entered a code into a keypad and the door slid up quietly. I heard a door open and shut, and then an unbelievable rumble rolled out into the quiet of the gardens. A huge powerful car slid aggressively out of the garage and stopped, the engine sounding great. Although it had to be 40 years old, the car seemed to be brand new. The passenger door swung open and I sat down, unlocking the knee on the peg and folding it into the spacious footwell. "What is this rolling wet dream, Shelly?" "It's a 1968 Dodge Charger R/T. It was my Dad's. Daddy worked for Iococca in the 60's and again later as a senior designer; that's where the money all came from. Slide over close; this is one of the few R/T's with a bench seat. Daddy always had Momma sit right next to him. They were driving a car like this, only a Coronet R/T, when they died. They never wore seatbelts, and I think that's probably why they died," she said as I fastened mine. I sat with my hip touching Shelly's side as we rumbled out of the driveway and onto the open road back to town. Her short stature made her look like my little sister was driving my car as we flew down the road. The car stopped traffic wherever it went, and I have to admit I finally realized what the era of muscle cars must have been like, and I liked it. We pulled into the parking lot at Cunningham Orthotic/Prosthetics a little after 2:30. Jeri met us at the door. She hugged me and shook Shelly's hand, then took us inside. As she led the way back to the clinic exam rooms, Shelly motioned to me, making a slashing motion at her own legs and then pointing at Jeri. She obviously wanted to know where Jeri's amputations were, and her eyes almost bugged out when I slashed across both of my own legs halfway up my thighs. 'How old?' she mouthed and pointed at Jeri. I held out my hands, with two fingers up on the right and four on the left, to which Shelly's eyes widen again. Jeri is even shorter than Shelly at barely five feet, although she quipped that since she made her own legs, she could be as tall as she wanted to be. Her mother was from north-western Africa and her father was Pakistani, so Jeri had an amazingly exotic look. Her skin is very dark, not quite the blue-black of her mother, but far darker than her fathers amber brown skin. Her eyes, deep brown and pronouncedly almond shaped, are highlighted by a fairly thin nose. Her lips are lush and frame her white teeth in a smile nearly always in place. Other tan her smile, though, it is her hair that draws your eye. Jeri's hair is a shimmering blue-black and reaches to the back of her knees when in a braided into a pony tail three inches in diameter. When free, the hair drags several inches behind her as she walks. Jeri was born with mid-thigh length stumps, and actually walked on her hands for the first years of her life, until her parents immigrated to the United States when she was 12. When she hadn't entered puberty by the age of 14, her parents took her to an endocrinologist, who discovered that Jeri has a birth defect called Swyer's Syndrome. Her ovaries are tiny and would never mature. More importantly, they nearly always turn cancerous before the patient reaches 30, so they were removed before her 15th birthday. Jeri had considered hormone therapy to start puberty, but hasn't decided to undergo the treatment as of yet, so the woman Shelly spoke to had the appearance of a 13 year old child. "So Shelly, please sit up here on the exam table for me, OK?" As she settled in, Jeri took in her appearance, remarking, to no one in particular, "Hose. Nice nice." She unrolled the stocking from Shelly's stump and then removed the compression stocking. Her tiny hands examined the limb for a while, asking Shelly to remark on any pain. Soon she sat smoothly down on the stool. "I you have an interesting stump, Shelly. Somewhat phallic, I should say, eh, Doc?" She looked at me with a wink. "The diameter is going to be a challenge, but I can adapt you up to a nice controllable socket. I have a number of feet and ankles to choose from, and it's sometimes a trial and error kind of operation before you decide which one you like the best. Do you have any special requests, like a running foot?" Shelly cocked her head and looked at me, then opened the light jacket she had on to reveal her bust line. "So that's a no, I'm thinking, eh? How about crutches, are you set on those?" "Actually, I have an old set I've almost worn out. Can you sell me a set of Canadians?" Shelly asked. "Worn out? This can't be over a month old?" "I used them for years off and on before I became an amputee." "Oh. So you're a club member?" "Card carrier since I was 12, amputee for a month." "Good for you. And good for you, too Doc. I'll be right back with the Canadians." She lurched to her feet, steadying herself on my arm, and went into the room at the end of the hall, returning shortly with a shiny new pair of Canadian Canes. In purple. "Wow!" Shelly said with a giggle. "Colors?" "Only the best for my special customers. Let me know if you want others. I can get them in lots of colors. So... I'm having a special on pegs, can I interest you in one?" ""Absolutely!" Shelly exclaimed. "Great! Come back on Tuesday and I'll fit you for your first socket. You can't walk on it, but it will do a better job of compressing your stump to speed the shrinkage." "Monday's out?" "Yeah, I do low income rounds on Monday." "Low income?" "Prosthetics are really expensive. Lots of time consuming, skilled labor involved. I recycle used limbs for low income children on Mondays. The end result is not perfect, but it's better than crawling like I did for 12 years." "Can I pay in advance for my stuff?" Puzzled, Jeri said, "I don't know how much it's going to be yet." Shelly wrote a check while Jeri looked at me with a puzzled expression. Handing the check over, she looked down at the floor and said, "This should cover it. What ever is left can go to help you with the kids." Jeri took the check and looked at it, then back at Shelly. "My God." She whispered, tears already rolling down her cheeks. She got up and threw her arms around Shelly, sobbing. I couldn't see it all, but what I could see had 5 zeros behind it. We all hugged, and I invited Jeri over for dinner in the next week, maybe after Shelly's fitting on Tuesday. "I like her a lot, she's very sweet. What's up with her size and stuff?" I explained about Swyer's and told Shelly that there was no 'Stuff', due to the syndrome. "Whoa. So she really is like a 12 year old. I wonder if she can have sex?" "You should ask her Tuesday night. You just never know. So what's with the check?" "Oh. I have lots, so why not share with nice people?" It appeared that the subject was closed. My left hand was draped over Shelly's shoulder as she drove, and I caressed her cheek softly. She turned her head and kissed my hand, and then sucked a finger into her mouth and suckled it. My pussy gave a twitch, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasurable feeling. As I sighed softly, I felt Shelly's hand on my leg, and before I knew it, she had one-handedly released my limb, slid it off and peeled off my liner. Her hand slid around on the end of my stump like a butterfly, exploring and caressing. My eyes were closed, and time drifted by until we stopped, and Shelly was entering the number code into the gate controller. We pulled into the back of the Charger's assigned garage slot through another electric door at the back side of the garage. As the car clicked and ticked after shutdown, we just sat there, Shelly fondling my stump, and me with my head tilted onto hers. It seemed like a perfect moment, and I think we wanted it to last. "I think I can find us a better place to chill, if you'd like," she said. "Mmm hmm," I hummed. I sat up on the seat, and grabbed my leg. "Would you mind not wearing that?" Shelly said, as she stood and grabbed her new crutches out of the back seat. "Would that make you happy?" I asked with a smile. "It would make me ecstatic," she said. "On one condition." I said. "And what would that be," she said with an arched eyebrow. "Take your bustier off." Shelly leaned against the Charger, turned around and lifted her blouse so I could unfasten the hooks I'd already located, and I slid it out from under her blouse. Her nipples made big tents in the front of the thin white fabric, and when she shook her shoulders, the whole thing took on a life of its own. When she put tension on her forearms to step forward, her breasts leapt up and shook like angry animals. My knee got weak, and I kicked off my black peep-toe pump, smiled and hopped toward the house, sincerely looking forward to the rest of the weekend. We made out way past the Koi pond, which looked like it had been here for a thousand years. In the shadows, multi-colored fish the size of small sharks swam lazily, and a white Heron sat perched on one leg. At first, I thought Shelly had picked an amputee bird statue to grace her pond, and then the other leg dropped into the water, and the stately bird with the sinuous, snake-like neck walked toward the shallower end of the pool, its attention fixed on whatever had drawn its eye to gaze below the surface of the dark water. Shelly entered a code on the keypad by the patio door, and inside the flashing red light on the alarm panel turned to solid green. She stood back and I hopped inside. The inside of her home was as amazing as the outside. The Japanese theme continued, with tatami mats on the light bamboo floors, obviously expensive Asian art on the walls, and a full-sized set of Edo-period battle armor in a softly lit alcove near the dark bamboo stairs to a basement level. The crest of Tokugawa Iayasu gleamed darkly on the center of the chest-plate. The Katana set displayed nearby drew my attention drew my attention. I hopped nearer and studied it carefully, the breath leaving my body as I realized its lineage. "Fuuuck," I hissed. "It's a Kotetsu." "Excellent! You know Japan!" Shelly exclaimed. "I'm a black belt in Muso Jikiden Eishin-Ryu Iaido. So yes, I know Japan. This has got to be priceless, Shelly." "If it were, my Dad wouldn't have gotten it. It was a gift from the board of Mitsubishi when Dad had successfully negotiated a partnership between them and Chrysler. Let's go downstairs, okay?" We went down the slightly curved stairway. When I reached the bottom, I turned to watch Shelly descend. She held onto a stair rail with one hand and the canes with the other and hopped slowly down, her breasts dancing in fascinating orbits. I met her at the bottom with a kiss and a caress of her mound with the end of my stump, which made her gasp. I turned to see floor to ceiling windows separating us from a full-scale Zen garden. In the middle of the indoor space was an elaborate soaking tub/massage area, and in a large alcove to the rear was a massive bed, flanked by larger-than-life granite statues of Buddha and Guan-Yin. They were as old as the armor upstairs. As I looked at them both, stunned, Shelly's skirt flew past me and draped over Guan-Yin's outstretched arm. I looked at Shelly, open mouthed, and she said, "They're just things, Kate. They're not important. The best things in life aren't things; they're people, Kate. Especially people like you. Let me undress you." "Okay," I whispered. Shelly hopped to the bath, a great block of stone sunken into the floor; nearly four feet by eight, and hot water began gushing into it as she turned some knobs. I joined her near the stone, and she lifted my sweater off my arms, and then planted a gentle kiss on each of my puckered nipples. The stone was chilly, and gooseflesh spread over my body. Shelly kissed her way down my pimpled stomach, her tongue finding just the tips of the down-fine invisible hair on my centerline. She sucked my diamond navel barbell into her teeth and pulled gently. I shuddered in ecstasy. Her hands slid my miniskirt down and I stepped out of it. I leaned back against the cold smooth blackness of the Furo and spread my stump lewdly, placing the end on the edge of the tub near my right hand. Shelly placed her hand, fingertips down, on my pussy and, finding her way into my long inner labia, curled her fingers underneath me. My pussy made a noise like a gasp when her finger slid into my body, and my leg started to shake. I lifted her blouse over her head. Her breasts were just as I had pictured them (literally), wide, deep and very full. Her nipples rode just below the center of her orbs, and pointed slightly downward. Her cleavage was nearly six inches long, and the weight of her breasts kept them pressed tightly against each other, until she bent forward to remove her skirt, when they began to swing in circles. She stood up, hopping a couple of times to get her balance. Her tits looked so good when she did that; I almost wanted to push her to make her hop. Her nipples were set on deep brown areolas only about an inch across, and the nipples themselves covered over half of them, and were the same brown and round like berries. She dropped her skirt, and slid into the bath, breasts floating like islands. I joined her, the water just hot enough to pinch my clit and other delicate tissues as they got wet. I sort of floated across the tub and sat on the stone bench next to Shelly, my stump against her butt and her stump draped across my thigh and in a convenient place for me to fondle. The scars were already turning pink and getting smoother, and I admired my work for a while, then closed my eyes and dozed for a few moments. Shelly took me by the waist and I let her float me over to a stone in the middle of the tub. She moved behind me and stood, sliding her stump around my side until the tip rested on top of my thigh for support. She began to work on my shoulders and neck with her little hands, which proved surprisingly powerful. Over the next few minutes, she reduced me to a near drooling idiot with her skilled massage, and then she was out of the tub and beckoning to me with a huge fluffy towel. I swung my leg over the side of the tub and she enveloped me in the towel, which was warm and indescribably soft. We hopped together to the slightly raised bed platform, and she put me on the near side at the edge, my right side to the edge. Kneeling on her shortened leg, dipped her hands into a warming pot near the head of the bed. She rubbed her hands together and then placed them on my hips, spreading the warm lotion up my back. Hopping on one foot has its advantages as far as erotic appeal and quickness over a short distance, but it is hell on your pelvis and lower spine, as well as brutally punishing on your remaining leg. For these reasons as well as the fact that Shelly was a consummate masseuse, I was in heaven. She works smoothly on my low back, shoulders and pelvis for a long time, and then I noticed her hands sweeping lower every time she dipped toward my butt, until she was massaging my ass. She kneaded the musculature with powerful strokes, finishing every other time with a slide down my crack and a gentle slip slowly past my little rose. Soon, she stayed lower and slid a finger a little way in, causing me to arch my ass up, yearning toward her skilled fingers. I groaned in disappointment as she slid down my remaining thigh, massaging clear to my foot, and then spending ten solid minutes working on it alone. I was close to weeping with pleasure when she started up my leg, her attention now fixed firmly on my stump. She stripped the muscles up to my hip, and then swirled down, cupping the end and searching until she found the truncated end of my femur beneath the overlapping quad and both heads of the biceps femoris. She rolled it between her hands, and the fact that it was my stump came roaring into my psyche, and I grunted out loud as an orgasm swept in a roaring circle inside my pelvis, my pussy smacking obscenely. I grabbed at her shoulders, rolled her over me and straddled her narrow hips. I lifted her stump in my hands and spread her thighs apart, then stood on my stump with our labia touching. My hips were already pumping uncontrollably, and soon hers joined in, our wet pussy lips rolling against each other in a perfectly choreograph dance of lust. My eyes made contact with hers and we stared at each others faces, the want plainly evident in our hanging, panting lips and hooded eyes. My breasts rocked with my hips, the golden bells suspended from my 12 gauge piercings chiming like temple bells. Shelly's tits rolled like waves in the ocean, the sharks of her hands surfacing through the crests to pull and flick at the islands of her dark nipples. Examinations Pt. 02 "Gonna cum, Kate," she said, and I nodded, mouthing 'Me too." The waves of our pulsating pussies crashed on each other, and her chant exploded into barking, "gonnacum, gonnacum, gonaacumgonnacum gonnaCUMMMMMMUHH! I followed almost immediately, the wave sweeping up my body in a delirious rush. I collapsed beside her, panting, my stump on her thigh and my arm across her tummy, snuggled against her breasts. After a few sweet kisses, we slept. Examinations Pt. 03 I awoke to a soft chiming near the head of the bed. I tracked the pleasant sound to a pyramidal alarm clock on a bedside table. A wave of my hand silenced it, and I made a mental note to get one. It was definitely preferable to the over-happy DJ voices on my clock radio. Drifting into the room was the wonderful smell of cooking. Shelly was gone, but there was a lovely silk dressing gown on the bed, as well as my leg and my shoe from yesterday. The three inch heel seemed a bit much for morning, but since my peg was set up for that length heel, I had a decision to make, wear the heel and the peg, hop, or use the peg with a three inch difference in leg length, resulting in a severe limp. I put the peg and the shoe at the foot of the bed. I made my way up the stairs one at a time, and hopped into the kitchen. A willowy blonde woman stood at the stove. She looked as if she had just walked off the boat from Sweden, pale flawless skin showing from the sleeves of her Chef's jacket. Her face was angular with a slight under bite. She smiled brightly and waved silently to me, then beckoned me over to her side. She crooked her finger as I hopped to her side, and guided her face to my left ear. Her lips touched my ear, a vaguely intimate touch from a stranger. A voice, if you could call it that, entered my ear, so softly that my own breathing seemed to overwhelm it. I understood the faintly spoken, somehow liquid-sounding, words, but there was no breath at my ear. "Welcome. My name is Bryn. I cannot speak any louder than this, but my hearing is fine, and I can make myself understood without words most of the time. Do you know ASL?" "I don't, but I can learn; and I am Kate," I replied. She clapped her hands in obvious happiness, went to the sink and washed them, then mouthed, "Hello Kate. Coffee?" pointing at the machine. "Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" I said excitedly. Bryn laughed silently, and went back to her cooking. Shelly crutched into the kitchen, cute as a button in a VS 'Pink Jogging suit, the band of the pants rolled down to reveal her hips and the dimples on her rear, if you looked just right. The hoody was zipped about halfway down, revealing her cleavage where the valley started out to form the underside of her globes. It was a nice outfit on her, especially topped with her wide grin. "What's cookin' Bryny?" she asked cheerfully. Bryn turned with a smile and began a series of astonishingly fast hand motions, which I recognized as American Sign Language, but that's about all I recognized of it. "Awesome! Swedish toast and turkey sausage!" "Swedish toast?" I asked. Bryn crooked her finger and I hooped over and snuggled her face into my shoulder, then said "Like French Toast, only it's nicer, sexier and doesn't smell bad. Like the French." I snorted into my hand and slapped her on the arm. "I like our little conversations, Bryn. We are going to get along fine, just fine" She nodded and motioned for us to go to the table. "Sit and eat with us, Bryny? Please?" Bryn nodded and brought another plate setting to the dining room. The dining table was close to 20 feet long, and made of a deeply colored wood I did not recognize. On closer inspection, it appeared to be hand carved. On much closer inspection, it was a breathtaking piece of work. I said so and Shelly answered, It's Bog Oak. It fell into a peat bog in Japan about a thousand years ago. There is no finish on the wood; it's impregnated with resins from the bog. My Daddy had it made when he was in Japan. The rest of it is in the office as a desk." Breakfast was delectable, each simple part contributing to the whole, from the coffee Bryn had selected, to the mango-orange juice she'd blended herself. I was watching the interaction of Shelly and Bryn; there was more than an employee-employer dynamic at work for sure. Moments after they made a curious sort of eye contact, I noticed a whole sausage disappear into Bryn's mouth. Almost immediately, she got a panicked look on her face, stood up and looked at me, grasping her throat and gagging. I decided to play along with their game. "Shelly, she's choking! Call 911!" I yelled. I rushed to the Bryn's side and whispered, "Give it here, you faker." The panic left her eyes, and I covered her mouth lightly with my own. The unchewed sausage slid into my mouth, and I bit it in half as slid a half back into Bryn's mouth. I chewed, swallowed, and then slid Bryn's scarf aside and placed my mouth on the nickel-sized hole at the base of her throat. I exhaled into it, and then inhaled. I stood up, not missing the fact that her eyes had closed and there was a smile on her face as she chewed her half of the sausage and swallowed. I reached behind me and grabbed another sausage in my fingers. "Close your eyes, Bryn." She did. I held the sausage near her nose, put my mouth on hers and inhaled. My eyes were looking at hers when they snapped open. Her hands grabbed my shoulders and she sat in her chair, nearly pulling me on top of her. Her face held amazement and joy, cemented together with tears. The air hissed out of her stoma as she laughed. Her hands flew like birds, and I heard Shelly whisper, "My God. I never thought about her ability to smell. How awful for a chef. She says she can't believe she didn't think of it before; she's been like this for four years." "So here's what we do," I said, looking at Bryn. "We go to the hardware store and get a piece of vinyl tubing. When you want to give a sniff to something, you put it in your mouth and hold it to your stoma, inhale and 'Bam', you have smell." She clapped her hands in glee, stood and enveloped me in a hug. "Or I keep you captive so you can do it with one of those kisses," she said. "I think I'm already a willing captive, Bryn. You won't have to go far to get a kiss." "As for you Missy!" I wheeled on Shelly, only to find her crying. "What's wrong, Shelly?" I said, Bryn hurrying to my side. "Nothings wrong, Kate. Everything's right, for the first time in years and years. First my parents find out about my amputee compulsion, and then they die. Then Bryn, my best friend in the world; the only person who gets me, has cancer and she almost dies. Then I go off the deep end and wind up in a loony bin." "And then you. My God, and then you. You turned it all around, just by the power of your heart and the skill in your hands, the joy that you bring with you. What have I done to deserve you, either of you?" We gathered together and shared a hug, and I felt the need to break the tension. "Well, I appreciate you elevating me to Sainthood without the typical wait-for-her-to-be-dead thing, but I'm gonna fall off the pedestal if I don't get some more coffee soon."