ZYLANNA





We were window shopping, walking hand in hand. My stride was 

shortened to march Zylanna's. Our peg-legs, swung together, 

rigidly struck the pavement in unison, but the soft rubber tips 

made little or no sound. The only noise came from Zylanna's 

fiberglass clog: a 'TAP', as its tall heel struck, followed 

closely by another when the sole landed: TAP-tap ... TAP-tap ... 

TAP-tap ... TAP-tap ... (every other step).



Despite feeling somewhat self conscious, I was having a good 

time. Zylanna was used to how people looked at her when she was 

in her one-legged state, but I was a neophyte. With her artifi-

cial leg, you couldn't tell Zylanna was an amputee, and, with a 

limp so minor it could have been anything, I was nearly as good. 

That is to say, no one was aware. But, being out and about as 

amputees. made us the subject of great interest; people noticed 

us, of course, and most reacted; some took a second glance, some 

stared, some stared rudely.





On the rare occasions you see someone with an arm or 

leg missing you can be nearly certain it's temporary: 

that it, the missing part, is in Isointen (Isolated, 

Intensive Treatment). The natural extension of the 

techniques perfected to effect substitution of artifi-

cial or transplanted organs for defective ones was, of 

course, the ability to remove and later replace any 

body part: leg, ear, nose, hand. The damaged article is 

removed and placed in Isointen where, with synthetic 

nutrients and a perfect environ, it can 'recuperate', 

even if it needs to be re-built. Meanwhile, rather than 

being bed-ridden, the patient is up and about. The 

whole process -- removal of the damaged part, treatment 

of the removal site and finally 'getting back together' 

-- is painless, and has a very high degree of success. 

It's as commonplace as heart transplants used to be. 

If, for example, 'you get your hand smashed to smither-

eens, they simply take (amputate) it, and put it in 

Isointen where its recovery, even if reconstruction is 

required, is practically assured. Not only is the 

healing period greatly accelerated, but in the meantime 

you're up and around.



If for some reason the part in question has been com-

pletely obliterated, a FullReal replacement is readily 

available. FullReal led (still leads) the field in 

artificial limbs and other body parts with phenomenal 

cosmetics and a self-contained comptor (computer actua-

tor) that responds to thought waves. So efficient, 

comfortable and life-like are they that you simply 

can't see the difference between a FullReal part and 

the real thing.





I met Zylanna over a year ago: A long-time fancier (dreamer) of 

amputees ... I felt a thrill when, outside the ShopAll saw a one-

legged girl re-form. She was very attractive. And she must have 

money, I thought, either that or a pretty high emplev (employee 

level), because using the central LOR (Live Organism Relocator) 

for personal errands is not cheap. Of course, I immediately 

checked her ankle and was pleased to note neither a gold nor 

silver bracelet. So, she wasn't joined or even a 'tress (mis-

tress). The small scarf stuck in the pocket of her jumpsuit 

didn't bother me all that much. A lot of girls showed a 'head 

ache' scarf just because they didn't want to be bothered, tempo-

rarily. The original purpose of a small scarf or handkerchief in 

a breast pocket or around a wrist was to allow females, who were 

so inclined, to clearly indicate they were not interested in men. 

As a convenience, the headache scarf (so called because of the 

oft' used "I've got a headache") was frequently shown when a gal 

just didn't want to be pestered while shopping, or having a drink 

alone, or whatever. It didn't necessarily mean the wearer was a 

feo (females only).



She was on crutches, and I was further delighted by her smooth, 

confident moves, as though she were an old hand with them. The 

empty right leg of her jump suit was pulled up along the outside 

of her legless thigh and tucked into the belt. The jumpsuit (I 

was sure it was ultra-silk) glistened to the point of looking 

wet; it fit like a glove. Swinging gently as she moved, her 

stump, smooth and gleaming, jumped slightly each time her shoes's 

tall, transparent heel struck the plastipave.



I followed her around the ShopAll, trying to keep out of sight. I 

suppose I was hoping she'd receive my vibes and do the asking 

herself. But she didn't, and when I was afraid she'd vanish in 

the LOR, I made myself say hello and ask for a date. "I see the 

headache scarf," I stammered, "but thought perhaps you wouldn't 

mind a compliment on how nice you look ... and ... ah ... can I 

take you to dinner?" 



She smiled. "I know that look. Which do you like better?" First, 

she balanced on her crutches and kicked her leg; then she lifted 

her stump and moved it around. 



"The combination," I blurted. She laughed. 



"Perfect! I see you aren't wearing a thumb band, so I guess I'm 

not luring you away from some devoted 'tress." She smiled, said 

all right to dinner, gave me her location and said to come by 

about an hour after moonrise. Her place had pretty high security, 

she said, and would I say something so she could verify my voice 

(sometimes the viewers went haywire). She got what looked like a 

lipstick from the small canister on her crutch and nodded. 



I said, to it, "Thanks for the date, see you none too soon." We 

introduced ourselves nearly as an afterthought.



She lived in an expensive comax (popular name for condominiums -- 

a play on the 'mini' part, of course). I faced the lens/speaker 

and solemnly said, "It's the 'combination' man." The door slid 

open almost immediately. Zylanna's voice came from another room, 

"Be there in a sec." I spent the time looking around. The general 

decor was expensive and tasteful. There were a lot of old arti-

facts (including a clock with hands, a genuine leather-covered 

chair, and a pair of real wood crutches). One wall was filled 

with apptronics (appliances, electronic). There was significantly 

more than your usual sound, visual and general data equipment. I 

was positive the small closet-like cubby at the far end was an 

IPS (Inert Package Sender). I didn't have time then to analyze 

what the place said about Zylanna, but I did have time to note it 

said 'wealth'. I turned around when she softly cleared her 

throat.



"Christ, I can't go out to dinner without my leg," Zylanna scolded 

me when she saw the look on my face. "The attention I got in public 

today will do me for a while. I'll take it off when we get back; 

I always do."



I apologized for being rude; after all, she looked quite stun-

ning, and I told her so. Zylanna's green hair matched her dark 

eyes perfectly; long and flowing, it touched her shoulders, where 

it contrasted nicely with the bare skin. She had on copper ear 

rings, light green eye make-up with gold glitter, and a deep 

rust-red lip stick with gold flecks. The rust-red-with-gold was 

repeated on her fingernails. One arm and its hand were without 

jewelry, the other had rings on three fingers and a copper brace-

let. The bracelet, in the form of a snake, spiraled around her 

forearm from wrist to elbow. It was snug, and her arm bulged 

slightly between the serpent's coils; the head was a watch, the 

time displayed in the eyes. Her jump suit was the most high-

styled I'd seen: The severely fitted top was strapless (like the 

old-time evening gowns). Separated by a deep V, each breast was 

in its own sculpted cup; there was cleavage a-plenty (in the 

back, it was cut down to her waist). The pant legs were skin-

tight and ended just above her ankles. There was an insert on the 

outside of each leg that ran up to the waist. The insert was two 

inches wide and made of clear, stretchable plastic. The suit was 

a shade or two lighter than her hair and made of something that 

seemed almost luminous. The wide belt cinched around her waist 

was copper, with a gold buckle. Her shoes were platformed mules 

made entirely of transparent plastic, except for the heels. At 

first glance, it looked like the seven inch, copper heels were 

stuck directly to her feet. Zylanna responded to my appreciative 

review with a smile. She lifted first one leg, then the other.



"If you didn't know, you couldn't tell which is which." Zylanna 

held out her right leg. "Amazing, honestly. It even feels real 

when you touch it. You have to squeeze pretty hard to tell it's a 

machine."



I was dying to know if the copper was real. Jesus, would that be 

something. But I thought it rude to ask. "I thought we might go 

to Bradford's," I said. "Terrific," Zylanna beamed, "expensive, 

but terrific. They've got the best synbeef.. Absolutely no com-

parison. Do you know their locoords? We'll use the LOR down-

stairs." I was impressed. Of course, nearly all businesses, even 

some individuals, had an IPS, but only a few non-gov businesses 

had an LOR terminal, and for a private residence building, it was 

nearly unheard of. I didn't know Bradford's coordinates, so 

Zylanna got them from the central directory.



I never tire of going down the air tube. On the way up, it seems 

slow (even the quick trip to Zylanna's 83rd level had been noth-

ing remarkable). But on the way down it's nearly like falling, 

except there's no shock when you stop. We crossed the lobby to 

the LOR. I reached for my general accounting card, but Zylanna 

said the transport was her treat. She'd let me make up for it at 

Bradford's because she simply had to have at least one shot of 

"J&B" ("Yes, they still have some, if you can believe it"). 

Zylanna made a fresh fingerprint on the card's indexer and slid 

it through the reader. "They charge by mass, you know?" she said 

as she punched in Bradford's locoords. "Sometimes I'm tempted to 

use my IPS and send my leg on ahead, then hop down to the LOR and 

follow a few minutes later. What do you suppose would happen if, 

completely unannounced, a leg, just a leg, showed up some place 

like this?" We were standing in Bradfords' vestibule.



The maitre d' called me by name, which did much for my aplomb 

(with the way Zylanna looked and the way everyone seemed to be 

looking at us, I appreciated any aplomb-help I could get). Zylanna 

suggested skipping the spirits-bar and having drinks at the table; 

She smiled when we were led to one of the small, secluded (intimate) 

booths, and whispered, "I bet you asked for one of these. Didn't you? 

I'll sit on the right. Hell, if you're going to pay for some real 

scotch, you ought to get to play kneesies with a real leg. I'd 

rather have your hand on my real leg, too, where I can feel it."



The evening was marvelous in every way. The food, the drink, the 

service; all were outstanding. And, of course, Zylanna's being 

there was what made it all the more delightful. I didn't begrudge 

the charge in the least. (I wondered if there was some special 

statistical category at central accounting for most spent, on a 

meal, for two, on the first date, on the first night of the week, 

when the girl was an amputee, with her right leg amputated, above 

the knee). During an after-dinner drink, and while my hand was 

making one of its many trips along the leg next to mine, I let it 

slide across to her right leg. I gently ran my fingers along the 

top of its thigh (which did feel like the real thing). "Can you 

feel that?" I asked. "No. I can't feel something like that. But 

if you bump my leg or shake it, I can feel it through my stump. 

One night at a dinner party, a guy petted my leg all through 

dinner. He later told a friend of mine how angry he was because I 

wouldn't pay any attention to him. She told him about my leg, 

but, of course he didn't believe her. He even kidded about it to 

me later in the evening. I laughed and suggested a dance and 

finally let him take me home. Pretty ..ah.. interesting scene 

when I took off my leg .... Speaking of going home and taking off 

legs ... shall we?"



Zylanna wanted to 'change', so she left me to make drinks. Her 

bar had an extensive supply; everything you could think of, with 

all the essence capsules in miniature decanters. But there were a 

few bottles and I knew the stuff was real, not just pre-mixed, 

like some people do. Zylanna returned, sans leg, wearing a short 

robe. She hopped across the room, swinging her stump. "Feels so 

good." She joined me on the sofa. "Massage it, please. Rub it." 

Things progressed from there: petting, kissing, undressing each 

other, going to bed, making love. Zylanna even asked if I'd like 

to stay the night (no prizes for the correct guess).





Zylanna was lovely and affectionate. She liked all 

things sexual and wasn't hesitant about letting me know 

what she'd like and/or how well she liked it. " ... 

please, eat me faster, lick it faster and suck it ... 

play with my breasts while you're doing that ... I want 

to use my mouth on you ... let's eat each other at the 

same time ... Oh, Yes, rub it, massage it ... Umm, and 

kiss it ... do things to my stump all night ... I want 

to make love ... in bed ... with the lights on ... make 

love while you play with my stump ... you really like 

it, don't you? ... how nice!"....



We made love. We did it again in the early morning. I 

did indeed like the stump of her leg and didn't get 

bored with it. I especially liked running my hands from 

the full, smooth hip, down along the part that was 

still a normal thigh. The skin's texture didn't change, 

but the flesh became more dense and the surface devel-

oped some contours. And then my hands would meet when 

her thigh simply stopped. After fondly rubbing the end, 

I gently traced the slight scar. I followed the same 

sequence when I used my mouth on the stump of her leg. 

After our early-morning love-making, I ooched down and 

used her stump for a pillow.



The next night was nearly a replay of the first, except 

Zylanna insisted on being charged for dinner (at The 

Landing -- nearly as good/expensive as Bradford's). 

This time, however, she returned, after 'changing', 

wearing a transparent nightly, red satin half- bra, a 

red, platformed shoe with an eight-inch heel and red 

forearm crutches.



The third evening we had a light meal and spirits at a 

friend's (hers) party. Back at her place, Zylanna 

selected black when she changed: a leather (real!) 

vest-like corset (garters on one side only), an ex-

treme-heeled boot and custom, full-length crutches; all 

black. (It's exciting to watch Zylanna crutch around on 

one super-high-heeled boot. The crutches did special 

things to her breasts, too. And she looks especially 

sexy when, before I've undressed her, she's sprawled on 

the bed.



I spent most of evening number four moving things from 

my place to hers. Zylanna said feel free to take 

whichever of the other bedrooms (four) I liked the 

best, but she suggested the dark blue and chrome one. I 

agreed. It wasn't the largest, but felt the most com-

fortable. And it had four laser recorders (which can 

produce either a high-resolution picture on the monitor 

or a hologram of whatever size you'd like). They were 

mounted in strategic locations, ready to go.





So, the work week had run its course, and the next three days 

were for amusement. During our previous time together, I'd told 

her pretty much about myself, what I did, and so forth. She did 

the same:





1. Zylanna worked for MAD (Medical Advances Department).



2. She was quite wealthy (the copper, leather, etc., 

were all genuine); her grandmother (acting as an indi-

vidual) had been instrumental in a politically sensi-

tive free-trade agreement with the Kadgor sector, and 

Zylanna's trust was still intact.



3. I hadn't found out how she lost her leg (its being 

gone was enough for me, and I thought I'd wait for 

an ..ah.. opportune time to ask).



4.Zylanna liked attentive companionship; she also liked sex.



5. Her only active 'social' thing was a 'girls' club'; 

special friends of hers: they met at Zylanna's place 

occasionally.





The second night after I'd moved in, Zylanna said she wanted to 

make a short film. It was fun to watch a couple of days later, 

she said. We should try and act out an episode of some sort; and 

the worse the acting and dialogue, the more fun it was to watch.





We got the scene with Zylanna in bed; me coming in like 

I'd just got hone from work.



"I'm in here," Zylanna called.



"Oh, hi," I said, coming through the door. "What're 'ya doing in 

bed? Do you feel all right?"



"Yes. Just fine. But I thought I ought to rest up a bit."



"Oh? Why?"



"Well. Remember that girl we saw the other night? The one on 

crutches, with only one leg? You really gave her the eye: like 

you thought she was something special."



"Yeah, I remember. Yeah, I guess I did think she was ..ah.. 

attractive enough."



"Oh, no. It was more than that. You ogled her. You thought she 

was sexy. I could tell. Just like I could tell, even when we 

first met, that you were wild about high heels. "



"O.K. You're right I did think she was sexy."



"And I began wearing higher heels. Got some specially just for 

you. I know you liked that. I did, do too, really. I enjoyed 

doing it for you. Liked the way you responded. It was nice, made 

me feel wanted, desired."



"And I appreciated it. Appreciated your doing it for me. And I 

still do. But what has all this got to do with your being in bed, 

resting?"



"Oh. Well. That's the whole point. I like doing sexy things for 

you. Making myself sexy for you. So, I had my right leg cut off."



	I'm open-mouthed, trying to say something, but nothing comes 

out.



"Yes. Really! I did. I had it done today. Made myself one-legged. 

I had my right leg amputated this morning!"



"No! Honest? Hey! That's great. Really, it's great. Where did you 

have it amputated?"



"Above my knee, Silly! And I told them to taper my thigh nicely 

and do a tidy job of sewing it together so my stump would be 

pretty."



"Wow!' Got your leg amputated. Cut off, just like that. I mean, 

that's terrific. How long before you're up and around?"



"Oh, I already have some crutches. I used them to get home. Easy. 

No kidding. They said it would heal really fast. Some special 

tissue rejuvenator, or something."





I go to the bed. Pull back the covers. Zylanna's 

dressed in a leather corset, one stocking and high-

heeled boot. Stump of right leg covered with bandages 

from hip to end. Zylanna raises stump. I hold it. Kiss 

her.





"Why the fancy get-up?"



"Crutching around, swinging my brand new stump, made me horny. I 

thought I'd take out 'insurance', just in case you weren't all 

that thrilled about me being one-legged. Would you like to see me 

on crutches?"





Zylanna rolls out of bed, picks up crutches off the 

floor. She gets them in place with much stump waving. 

The crutches are too long, and she looks unsteady as 

she carefully moves about.





"Do you think I'm sexy?"



"Oh, yes indeed. I think you're very sexy. When we get you some 

custom crutches you'll be even better. How soon will I be able to 

see your stump. Play with it?"



"In a week, they said. I feel so tall. Having only one leg makes 

me feel taller. I don't think I want an artificial leg. I'll use 

crutches all the time; or I'll hop. I made the crutches too long, 

I think, but I'll get better with them and one high heel. I can 

tell it'll be easy. Do you think I could get a peg leg somehow? 

God, would that be something. Should I? I wonder how hard a peg 

leg would be? With a high heel, I mean."





Taking long strides, Zylanna goes length of the room, 

turns and comes back. She catches a crutch tip, stum-

bles and falls, half across the bed; looks at her 

hidden stump.





"It's all right, I didn't hurt it. But you'd better make love to 

me before I do."





Zylanna crawls on the bed, smiles, runs her hands down 

her lone, nyloned leg, kicks high-heeled boot, raises 

bandaged stump and waves it. we make love, orally 

first.





"I can't wait 'till the bandages are off. They're rough on my 

cheek. Besides, since you went to all the trouble at getting your 

leg cut off just for me, I want to make love to the soft, naked 

stump."



"Oh, yes. Me too. Promise me you'll do things to my stump, just 

like you do to my breasts ... Promise?



The following night Zylanna was having 'the girls' over and asked 

if I'd 'amuse' myself and come home late. I did, but not late 

enough, evidently. When I arrived, Zylanna and three other girls 

were standing, saying goodbye, it was a lovely evening, etc. 

Zylanna introduced me, and we all smiled and said good night.



When they were gone, Zylanna suggested a drink. I suggested 

watching something while we relaxed. She smiled and said she had 

a ..ah.. tid-bit I might find interesting, and should it be on 

the tube or did I prefer watching a 3-gram (three-dimensional 

hologram). I opted for the large monitor (sometimes the details 

are more clear).



The image came on the screen, crisp and sharp:



It was taken in 'my' bedroom (and recently, too; I saw 

some of my stuff). Zylanna, wearing a robe and tall 

mules, walked into the picture. She smiled, turned 

around like a model, and slipped the robe off to reveal 

attractive, but not seductive, panties and bra. The 

camera zoomed in an her right leg as she began to talk. 

"This is a model AX-22.7-F(r) leg. Notice the natural 

texture, perfectly duplicated muscle contour and accu-

rate color match. As you can see, the fully adjustable 

ankle and toes will adapt to even the highest heel. The 

comptor is the latest in sensitivity and the operation 

is completely to noiseless." Zylanna kicked off her 

left shoe; she raised her right leg and eased it off 

her stump. "Attachment is easy and nearly unnoticeable 

due to this special transition band." The leg's hollow 

thigh was clearly shown on the screen. "The patented 

liner, individually and custom fitted, of course, 

pampers your stump and assures comfortable carefree 

wear for as long as you want. As you can see, my stump 

is not bruised, swollen or sore in the least." There 

are close-ups of her stump, which she holds up and 

cradles before massaging the legless thing. Zylanna 

lays her still-shod leg on the bed, picks up her shoe 

and hops out ....



One of the girls I'd said good night to just a moment 

before enters the room. She's wearing ny-gloss pants 

tucked into high-heeled boots and a sheer, long-sleeved 

blouse. Like Zylanna had, she turns and poses for the 

camera, and then strides back and forth, steady and 

poised, despite her tall, steep boots. She stops, kicks 

her left leg and introduces herself as Beth. "There is 

no question that this BR-33.2-F(1) foot is the best 

available. Also" - she waves her right arm - "my hand, 

a BE-42.a-F(r), has no equal." Beth takes off her left 

boot, along with-the man-made calf-ankle-foot. Next, 

her hand comes off, The virtues of stump- fitting and 

comfort, along with cosmetics and appearance, are 

explained and detailed on the screen. Leaving her hand 

and booted foot on the bed, Beth erratically hops out 

on her one high-heeled boot ....



The third 'model' is again night-gowned. She swirls 

around and then casually sits on the bed, smiles and 

winks. "Hello. My name is Gayle." Gayle explains and 

shows how her eye works. Also, close-ups and dialogue 

take the viewer through her mastectomy and replacement 

breast. "... and the incision is virtually 

undetectable ... complete with semi-erect nipple and a 

texture and density that's perfectly matched to the 

real thing, this artificial breast, is ...." There 

follow many clear, tight shots of her breast being held 

and squeezed. On the way out, as an aside, Gayle men-

tions that her limp is because the toes on her right 

foot have been amputated and she "doesn't want to 

bother with replacements"; moreover, I think the limp 

adds a little spice to the way I walk" ....



The fourth scene is with Zylanna and the third of her 

friends. The girl, Ann, is tall and lovely. Instead of 

a left arm, Ann has a four-inch stump, which is not 

hidden at all by her sleeveless robe. In her right 

hand, she's carrying an old-fashioned artificial arm, 

complete with control wire and hooks. Zylanna is wear-

ing a hip-length robe and mid-heeled shoes. She's using 

an old, open-hinged, artificial leg, and she limps a 

lot. Also, she's carrying a high heeled boot and a peg 

leg. Dialogue and clear camera shots accompany the two 

girls' descriptions of their 'antique' prosthesis. 

Zylanna helps Ann put on her metal arm and adjust the 

connections. How the arm and its hooks work is demon-

strated. Zylanna does the same with her mechanical leg. 

Then she takes it off, puts the boot on her left foot 

and laces the peg leg's old, leather thigh-boot tightly 

to her stump. Zylanna talks about the convenience of a 

peg leg as she struts around the room. They kid about 

their old, primitive, artificial limbs. Ann uses her 

hook to partially undress Zylanna. Zylanna pirouettes 

on her peg leg, then awkwardly gets to the floor and 

more awkwardly yet, gets back up. Limping back and 

forth, Zylanna lets her rigid peg leg strike the floor 

with excessive shock (her breasts seem to erupt with 

each step); Before leaving the room, they take off 

their 'appliances' and lay them aside. After following 

Zylanna and Ann hopping out, the final shots are close 

ups and various pans of the things spread out on my 

bed ....



"An interesting little 'club' you have," I grinned.



"Thought you might find it so," Zylanna laughed.



"That old leg was something, and, Jesus! I love the peg leg. How 

come you've never used it for me? And where'd you get it 'em? 

anyway?"



"I got the leg from MAD. They had a-collection of old things, and 

I persuaded them to let me have that one. It's not a good fit 

and, you saw how it works. About the peg leg, legs, really; I've 

got three. First, there's the one you just saw. It really is an 

antique. The peg was just the right length for a high heel, but I 

had to have the leather bucket modified to fit my stump; even so, 

it's not all that comfortable. I only wear it on ..ah.. special 

occasions. But I've got two other stump buckets that are a de-

light to wear; one black and one 'flesh'; both are a modified 

thigh from a FullReal leg. 'Pampers your stump', etc. They, the 

two stump buckets, will take any of the nine pegs I've got. The 

pegs are different lengths and styles, and they're 

removable/interchangeable. Had a hell of a time getting the guys 

at FullReal to make them; bad for their image and all that jazz, 

besides why in the world would anyone want a peg leg?, etc. I 

kidded that I thought it appropriate that, since I had had my leg 

amputated, I wanted them to amputate one of theirs. They missed 

the humor in that. Finally had to get MAD to make the request for 

me, and that did it. I use a peg leg around here quite a lot. 

They're light and comfortable, the new ones, anyway. And I like 

how they look and feel. I really do. I don't know why I haven't 

given you the lurching, peg leg show yet. Of course, during the 

short time you've been infatuated with me, I haven't had a chance 

to do all my things, but I'll begin pegging straight away, I 

promise."



"Ah, ha. You've got other secrets; I can tell. What are they?"



"I'll tell you when we know each other better," Zylanna grinned 

and took off her leg. She motioned for another drink. I did the 

honors and rejoined her. "A thorough massage would be appreciat-

ed," she smiled and raised her stump.



As always, I began at the top and worked my way down. The soft 

flesh moved and dimpled beneath my firm grip. I rubbed the end, 

then began all over again.



And also, as always, Zylanna sighed and moved her stump in my 

hands. "Can the peg leg show wait 'till tomorrow?"



"Certainly, as long as you promise to make it a good one."



"I'll make it a good one. Should we make love right here, and 

then again in bed? Or should we go to bed and do it there as many 

times as we can?"



"Here, on the floor ... then in bed."



"Perfect!"



During the ensuing weeks, Zylanna and I became more and 

more acquainted. We were enjoying each other, and we 

enjoyed our love-making more and more, as well. There 

were peg leg shows, more recorded, ad-lib episodes (we 

called them mini-productions), and we even went out 

(shopping) once with Zylanna one-legged. I reveled in 

the attention we (she) received. I'd got a thumb band 

(in copper). Zylanna had smiled and said it was O.K. 

with her if that's how I felt. I said it was; I liked 

thinking I was 'hers'. There was the implication, of 

course, that the reverse was true, and I just knew 

every man that looked at her was also looking at me 

with envy galore.



One night we were watching another of the mini-productions put on 

by her club. I commented (again) on how their special bodies made 

she and her friends more alluring, attractive and, of course, 

sexy. And I laughed that my telling her that (as I had so many 

times before) was certainly no secret.



"There's one of my 'secrets' I ought to share, because I've 

evidently got you bewitched," Zylanna said, with a serious look. 

"It's a lot like the little episode we recorded a while back; I'm 

talking about my leg. There wasn't a problem with it. No accident 

or incurable infection. I knew about this special experiment they 

wanted to do at MAD, similar to the fsointen program, but some-

what different. It involved legs, and they needed a healthy, un-

traumatized subject; leg, I mean. I wanted to be one-legged; had 

thought about it for a long time; even used to pretend. So I 

persuaded them to use my leg for their experiment. What I'm 

saying is, I had my leg amputated on purpose! Getting my leg back 

after a short while was assured. But when the time came, I 

stalled. They wanted to extend the experiment anyway, and they 

hesitantly agreed. I've been stalling them since; and I'm going 

to keep stalling, I think. I may be able to ..ah.. get my leg 

back if and when I want it; but I very well may not. It's been 

three years now. Everyday stuff is a cinch, of course, with 

either of my FullReal legs, supplied and serviced by MAD, natu-

rally; and so far, I'm not in the least tired of being an ampu-

tee. A lot of that has to do with the kind of special attention I 

get from selected men, like you. You're the best so far, by the 

way; that's why I've taken to wearing a head ache scarf when 

you're not with me; just not interested in anyone else. But 

mainly, I'm not tired of being an amputee because, for some 

reason, I simply like having only one leg. And I like my stump, 

too. Shocking-slash-weird, I suppose, but secrets often are."



I sipped my drink and pondered. From the first, I'd thought she 

was excessively attractive and desirable, and now, knowing she 

had caused herself to be one-legged, I found her to be all the 

more special and exciting/attractive/sexy. I marveled at my 

extraordinary luck in 'catching' her on crutches that day. Be-

cause Zylanna very rarely appears in public other than as normal. 

Like she just said, her 'legs' are so functional and responsive 

that, from the practical point of view, she is an un-amputee 

whenever using one, and, had that been the case that day, I most 

likely wouldn't have gone to the trouble of making a pass.



Her being a voluntary amputee accounted for a number of things: 

the role her stump plays in sex, her attitude about her body and, 

most of all, how she dresses at home, where she never wears a 

leg. She uses crutches, or a peg-leg, or she hops. She wears 

pants or jump suits with the unneeded leg tailored to fit her 

stump or tightly folded over it; or shorts, snug enough to dimple 

her thighs (especially the nine- inch one); or things with a mid-

thigh (or higher) hem. She also goes naked. Zylanna has quite a 

selection of crutches and peg legs (thank you, MAD). She loves 

high heels and delights in wearing just one. Using crutches, her 

one leg, glistening in a nylon stocking or skin-tight pant leg is 

made all the more shapely by a tall, steep shoe, and she swings 

it in long, graceful arcs. With a peg leg, she's not as smooth, 

naturally. But Zylanna moves with confident purpose despite the 

pronounced limp that results when your leg is amputated and the 

substitute is simply a rigid pole securely fastened to the re-

maining stump. Zylanna hops a bit, and she does it well. Espe-

cially with a high heeled boot, her planned, abrupt movements are 

a delight (her breasts put on a show of their own).



I was in high spirits when me made love that night, and I 

smothered her, and her stump, with affection. I wanted her to 

know I thought he decision to become one-legged and, at the same 

time, have a lovely stump 'created', was marvelous. I adore her, 

and her single leg, and her stump.



The following morning before we left for work, Zylanna went to 

the dresser and came back with something in her hand. She asked 

if I would put it on, please. It was a lovely silver and copper 

bracelet. She held up her slim ankle and smiled. "If we're going 

to be lovers, why not make it official and let people know I'm 

someone's 'tress. Besides, I'd like to think of myself as being 

yours." (I only fumbled with the clasp a little bit.)



That evening, Zylanna wanted to make another film; she'd had the 

idea for a while, she said, explaining it, and thought I'd appre-

ciate it now.





Scene: Zylanna standing: looks preoccupied, long robe, 

belted; knee and bit of thigh show; mid-heeled shoes. I 

enter and speak.



"WOW! After being away for so long, I was surprised you were 

still available and accepted my invitation to dinner. I love the 

bedroom reception. Sets ..ah.. a nice tone. Lovely place, by the 

way."



"Yes, well, like I said, my roommate is loaded, and this is her 

place. Ah ... I need to tell you something, and I thought this 

might be the best way ....



"Perfect. I'd say it's the perfect place. What is it?"



"I haven't been going out much after the accident. You caught me 

by surprise when you called, and I said, O.K., without thinking. 

But ..ah.. then I remembered how you liked to dance and carry on, 

and, well ...."



"Hey. I've slowed down a bit, and if you don't want to overdo it, 

it's no problem. You mentioned an accident? Do you tire easily, 

or get dizzy, or what? Hell, you look fine to me. More than 

fine ... nice looking leg there ... which is how I remember. One 

of the things I always....



"Stop. Christ! I knew l should have just said no when you called. 

That's just the point. There aren't those lovely legs you 

remember. There's just one lovely leg ... Watch me walk and 

you'll see what I mean ... why I don't dance ... Oh, Jesus, what 

a mess...."



	Zylanna walks around the room; lurching, limping; it's a 

chore.



"Hold on! Don't jump to conclusions. I liked more than your legs. 

A lot more. It's O.K. if your leg was hurt. The accident. Your 

leg is hurt, isn't it? I mean, badly hurt? Look! It's O.K., 

really, I ...."



"It's not 'hurt'! Oh, God! It was hurt. But it's not any more. 

Because it's not there any more.It's gone. It was amputated! One 

of my legs has been CUT OFF! I've only got one leg! .... Damn! 

God Damn it! I should have told you. Told you when you called. 

But I was lonely, and wanted to see you, and thought I could ... 

Oh hell, I don't know ... it doesn't matter ... you're here 

now ... ready for a nice night ... and ... surprise ... I'm not 

the same any more ... can't dance ... can't even wear high 

heels ... You're ready for a hot evening ... instead ... the 

girl's not even normal ... you've got a date with a one-legged 

cripple ... You don't believe me? ... Here! ... I'll show you!"



Zylanna throws off robe; 'sensible' under-garments; she 

turns; shoes have two-inch heels.





"Pretty sexy legs, huh? Especially this one! Real feminine ap-

peal. Hell, who cares if I've got a robot leg? I can stand up, 

can't I? And walk ... see? ... my limp isn't really that bad ... 

at least that's what they tell me; all encouraging and 

sincere ... there! I bet that's just what you were looking for-

ward to ... a limping cripple ... Christ! I'm surprised I didn't 

trip and fall ... I'm so comely when I'm crawling around on the 

floor, or when I have to use a chair to get up ... of course I 

don't have to limp around with this thing stuck on my stump ... 

isn't that a great word? ... stump! ... just like when they had 

trees to trim ... you cut off a limb and made a stump ... I've 

got my very own stump, isn't that nice? ... anyway, if I don't 

want to use this lovely artificial leg. I've got crutches or a 

peg leg ... and, naturally, being one-legged, I frequently 

hop ... I suppose you ought to see everything ... no, no, let me 

show you ...."



	Zylanna disappears in closet; returns with peg leg; same 

shoe.



"I wear this thing around here more than that leg ... the leg is 

uncomfortable ... this thing's stump bucket, another good term, 

don't you think, is from one of those super expensive legs I 

can't possibly afford ... but I managed to buy a thigh ... actu-

ally, it's quite comfortable ... of course, the best part is how 

enchanting it looks ... and how it gives me such a special 

limp ... now, this is a good and true limp, complete with jolts, 

and everything ... worthy of someone who's crippled ... sorry 

about the shoe ... seems to me you liked high heels ... this is 

the highest I can wear with either of my 'legs'... ha!, that's a 

laugh, calling this heel 'high'... now, with crutches I can do a 

little better ... if I'm careful ...."





Again, out of sight, Zylanna changes to skirt and 

sweater: one tall-heeled boot; full-length crutches, 

adjustable.





"As you can see, crutches are especially nice ... they attract 

attention ... highlight your single leg ... and you look so de-

lightfully helpless ... everyone is sure to stare at you ... and 

comment to themselves about 'the poor crippled thing'... sure, 

the skirt is so out of style it's ridiculous ... but who 

cares? ... one-legged girls aren't in style, either ... besides, 

it's better than an ultra dac jump suit, where my stump, all 

shiny and by itself, looks like some freak growth ... at least 

with a skirt you can't see it ... pretty neat boot, though, 

huh? ... I mean, a high heel and everything ... just like the 

normal girls wear ... notice how smooth and graceful I am ... I 

don't wave my stump or anything ... you can't even tell it's 

there ... until I sit down, of course ... there! ... See what I 

mean? ... isn't it lovely the way it shows up now?"





After sitting and smoothing the skirt over her stump, 

Zylanna raises on one leg; turns and reaches for 

crutches, which are resting against the couch; she 

falters, takes three small, urgent hops, and falls.





"Oh no! Don't help. It's important to do things yourself ... they 

told me that again and again ... and; of course, I can ... like I 

can get up ... there, see? ... I didn't have to struggle too 

much, and only used the couch a little ... it's really much 

better, more awkward, ungraceful and pathetic, if I fall down 

with my peg leg on; makes it harder to crawl around and more 

difficult to get up; should have treated you to that, sorry ... 

now, if my crutches weren't right here, I'd have to hop ... and 

maybe I could, with this boot on, and maybe I couldn't ... being 

'just like everybody else', I wouldn't take off my shoes just to 

go to the bathroom ... oops! ... I didn't look any too steady, 

did I? ... arms waving and stump bouncing all over ... guess I 

better take my boot off after all ... there! ... see? ... hop-

ping's no problem at all ... if that isn't graceful, what is? ... 

just like a gazelle ... God! ... this whole thing is so awful ... 

your being here ... wanting to go out ... have a good time ... 

bet when you called, you were even thinking about going to 

bed ... HA! ... that's a laugh, isn't it ... I haven't made love 

for ... for a long time ... never works out ... for the obvious 

reasons ... I don't even think about it any more...."



	I take off my clothes.



"Yes. I did think about going to bed. I'm still thinking about 

it. Let's do it right now. Let's go to bed and make love right 

now. Please"



"Thanks, but not necessary. Really. We can go to dinner if you 

still want to, or stay here and eat and drink something if you'd 

be embarrassed going out with me. Really, we'll just pretend we 

had fun, and you can go. I won't make it awkward. Honest, I won't"



"I don't want to go to dinner. I want to get you in bed. I really 

do. "





Zylanna frowns, shrugs, hops to the closet; returns 

barefoot, wearing mid-length robe; hops toward the bed; 

I stop her and begin to take off robe; she objects, but 

then allows; she's naked, except for her stump, which 

is hidden by a white, draw-stringed cover.





"It's the best way, believe me. I don't want you to see it. And 

you don't want to see it. It's ugly. Awful. Especially the end, 

where they sewed it back together after cutting my leg off. Don't 

look at me like that: at it like that. Please. Just make love to 

me ... pretend it's fun. Forget how I look ... forget what I 

am ...."



"I don't want to forget or pretend. I want to make love to you. 

All of you. Including your stump. I really want ...."



"Oh God. Don't. Don't lie. Don't say ridiculous things like that; 

things you can't possibly ...."





I kneel and pull the shroud off Zylanna's stump; still 

kneeling, take it in my hands.





"You want the truth? O.K. I want to look at it. I don't think 

it's ugly or awful. I think it's sexy and erotic. I want to hold 

and feel and play with it. I want to lick it, the end and the 

scar. I want to massage it, and see if I can feel what's left 

inside. I do want to make love to you. I think you're sexy and 

desirable. I'm glad you had your leg amputated. I'm glad you only 

have one leg. And I'm glad you have this stump! Because I want to 

make love to it, too. Then I want you to rub it between my legs. 

I want you to rub it against my cheek while I'm eating you. I 

want to hold and squeeze it while I'm inside you, and your in-

sides are squeezing me .... Hop around before we go to bed. I 

want to watch you, look at you: look at your one, normal leg, and 

look at the stump of the one that's been amputated ...."



	Fade out when, on the bed, my mouth first closes on it.



After carefully guarding my sentiments, I finally broached the 

amputee subject with a work cohort. He responded with an I've-

been-found-out embarrassment, but he was genuinely excited, all 

the same. He had two friends. Before long, the girls' club's 

meetings were frequently a get-together of eight, with much 

showing-off and many mini-productions, One night, Zylanna men-

tioned that MAD was 'looking for a hand' for a new experiment. 

Gayle, the gal with the false eye and synthetic breast, became 

instantly and seriously, interested. Gayle had mentioned before 

that the other girls had something 'real' amputated, not just 

some 'old toes'. And at the next meeting, Gayle gleefully showed 

off, making sure everyone was properly appreciative of her brand 

new, lovely stump; and the new hand MAD had supplied. But she was 

most excited about the old (not ancient, but old) hook she'd 

managed to get MAD to give her: a polished aluminum forearm 

sleeve with gleaming, chrome hooks. There were no wires or vis-

ible controls; the thing was hydraulic (very, very state-of-the-

art, in its time) and the hooks seemed to open and close by 

themselves. A week later, Zylanna did the same: volunteered and, 

unannounced, had her left hand amputated.



"The replacement hand is amazing, really. One model newer than 

Gayle's; wait 'till you see it. And feel it, ha, ha. That's what 

the experiment is all about, of course: replacements. Getting our 

real hands back is guaranteed. They said about half a year, which 

was fine with me. But I told them I had to have a hook like 

Gayle's or I wouldn't participate." Zylanna smiled, showing me 

her two-day-old stump. "I get my new hand and my hook day after 

tomorrow. I wouldn't have done it, really, if you weren't here. 

Not only is some help, at first, going to be nice, but I just 

knew you would ..ah.. understand. And my guess is that you're not 

angry or disappointed." Zylanna touched my lips with her new 

stump. "Am I right?" (I only did things to it for ten minutes).



Two weeks later, at the club meeting, I proposed that we go out 

to dinner together, all eight of us, like a party, to a nice 

place, with everyone dressed up. Except that the girls not wear 

their 'normal stuff', but go as amputees. A lot of commotion 

followed, but Zylanna said, yes, yes, and Gayle supported the 

idea (she had a new boy friend who thought her handless arm and 

toeless foot were the most desirable things possible, and had 

coaxed her into public a couple of times, which, to her great 

surprise, she ended up enjoying). Beth and Ann finally agreed, 

and we set it up for two days hence.



They all wore their finest: clothes, jewelry, make-up, every-

thing.



Beth's tailored pants left no doubt about the shape of her legs, 

especially the one with no foot; she was on crutches, with one 

specially made for her handless arm: her stump fit into a tapered 

sleeve fastened to the handle. The special crutch had an over-

size saddle, which did amazing things to the breast on that side. 

Her lone boot had a soaring, silver heel. The heel's tip was 

rubber, but it had a metal insert that made a sharp, clear noise 

each time it struck.



Ann's shoes were spectacular, with three-inch, hooded platforms 

and gold heels eight inches high. She was braless and used her 

'old' arm. It was polished and the hooks, controls, hinge-pins 

and wires sparkled. Her blouse was transparent (a recent fad), 

and everything showed.



Gayle had on a bright yellow jump suit that fit like her skin 

(better than her skin?). Her knee-high boots were steep, with 

tall heels. And, matching its foot, the right boot was toeless: 

its two-inch platform looked like a round, black pillar (I think 

she limped more than really necessary). She had a new hook: a 

black stump sleeve; the curved talons were gold (I think she made 

them move more than really necessary).



Zylanna wore the same strapless, bare-topped jump suit she had on 

our first date. And one of the same transparent/copper shoes. Her 

peg leg was the black stump bucket with a hand-carved, real wood 

peg. All this was obvious because her right pant leg was inside 

the stump bucket ("If I'm going to make a one-legged spectacle of 

myself, I may as well amputate this pant leg, too," Zylanna had 

laughed. Her breasts bulged as before, but moved a lot more than 

before because Zylanna limped a lot more than before. The expanse 

of lovely skin on her shoulders and back was quite stunning. Her 

expensive jewelry, again on one arm only, would normally catch 

anyone's eye, and, of course, it did. but the real show was her 

left arm, which was completely in view. And contrasting with the 

normal and lovely, jeweled one, Zylanna's unadorned, handless arm 

and bare stump looked excessively naked and erotic. (I made a 

note to get Zylanna to wear the serpent bracelet on her stump 

next time: it occurred to me that her handless forearm would 

bulge between the tight coils in an ..ah.. attractive manner.)



Christ! The 'audience' went wild. They tried to be polite and not 

stare or talk too loud, but their success was less than fair. All 

in all, we had a good and exciting time. Zylanna and Gayle liked 

it, and said they wanted to do it more often. Ann wasn't all that 

enthusiastic, and Beth (although she'd been the subject of one or 

two very complimentary, overheard comments) was undecided. (I had 

no trouble making up my mind.)



A week later, I arrived at Zylanna's late, as usual, after the 

next club meeting; she greeted me wearing a nice boot, peg-leg 

and short robe. Zylanna stumped to the couch and said I might 

enjoy the production the girls had recorded that evening. They 

had all gone to dinner, dressed up and fully normal. Back at 

Zylanna's, during drinks, Gayle had suggested they do a mini-

production. I agreed that I always enjoyed watching them, got a 

drink for myself and Zylanna and said, roll it.





It was taken in the living room. Four nice-looking 

ladies were casually standing around and enjoying a 

drink. Their clothes were varied, but very dressy, with 

high heeled shoes or boats. With a casual air, one of 

them (Ann) takes off her clothes, until she's wearing 

nothing but gartered stockings and her shoes. Then she 

takes off one of her arms. Another of the well-dressed 

ladies (Gayle) followed suit, except she removed an eye 

and a hand, before taking off her bra, whereupon, she 

went to great lengths to 'demonstrate' her artificial 

breast. Gayle kicked off a shoe, rubbed her toeless 

foot and stripped the nylon from the otherwise perfect 

leg. Similarly, Beth and Zylanna took off their 

clothes, and then their other removable parts. When 

Beth's footless leg and handless arm were naked, Zylan-

na pulled the hand off the stump of her forearm and 

then discarded her FullReal leg.



All four were now clad in nothing but nylons and shoes 

or boots (on their normal limbs). (I found it hard to 

believe this show was completely impromptu, because 

they all had on garter belts or single, elastic-topped 

nylons.) The two-legged girls wore shoes, ultra high 

and steep (Gayle limped, using her unshod, toeless foot 

like a living peg leg); the one-legged girls' boots 

were high heeled, too, but not as extreme, and they 

could hop. Zylanna did so, bobbing to the bedroom. She 

returned with two pairs of long gloves. A moment later, 

just like their normal legs, the girls' four normal 

arms were 'clothed'. This exaggerated the nakedness of 

their breasts (seven, if you knew about Gayle) and 

their stumps, of which there were also seven (if you 

counted Gayle's foreshortened foot: as a stump).



The four, near-naked ladies moved about, showing off 

their 'maimed' bodies. The missing parts were accen-

tuated by the gloves, stockings and shoes on their 

normal arms and legs. One by one, they began to use 

their naked stumps to touch and probe. A blunt-ended 

arm poked a full, soft breast; a footless leg lifted 

and ran itself all the way up between a pair of nyloned 

thighs; two handless forearms rubbed and petted the 

stump of a leg. The four-inch stump of an arm poked and 

massaged a man-made breast. Before long, they were all 

on the floor. Now, in addition to the naked stumps, the 

girls' mouths got into the act, licking and kissing. 

Thighs were spread, waiting for a stump to pet or a 

mouth to kiss; nipples responded to attention from 

lips, teeth and the remainders of various amputated 

limbs. But never did a normal gloved hand get involved, 

and no attention was paid to any of the five lovely and 

shapely legs, with their high heels and glistening 

nylons (a naked, toeless foot seemed to be popular, 

however).





"You're supposed to be paying attention to the show," Zylanna 

scolded, when I began to fuss with her robe. "Besides, there'll 

be plenty of time to fondle my breasts when we go to bed."



"Very funny," I said. "Like all those special bodies I'm looking 

at, with their specialness being nakedly flaunted all over, is 

supposed to make me think of breasts. While right beside me is a 

lovely, double amputee. The first amputation was her own idea, 

you know; she 'just wanted to be one-legged'. Later, she had her 

hand amputated just for me. And now, with her lovely, erotic 

stumps only inches away, she's talking to me about tits, for 

Christ sakes." I pulled the robe open and grazed her breasts, 

before reaching for her plastic-covered thigh. I pulled the peg 

leg off, slid my had along her stump to the end, where I cupped 

it and gave it a squeeze.



"Oh, well," Zylanna Laughed. "If you'd really rather play with my 

maimed body-parts, I guess I ought to help." She turned on the 

couch and thrust her nine-inch leg in my lap. It felt lovely as I 

massaged it. A moment later, her handless arm touched my lips. 

"Since, as you say, I had this stump made just for you, the least 

you could do is kiss it." She pretended a pout. "I guess my 

normal, feminine, hard-nippled breasts will just have to wait. 

Ah .. actually it feels best if you lick, and sort of nibble the 

scar ... if you don't mind."



I followed instructions. We ended up on the floor, of course. 

Zylanna still had on her single nylon and the high heeled boot 

she'd been wearing during the 'show' as we fondled each other and 

made love. After we'd enjoyed each other for a time, I helped 

Zylanna up and, with her handless arm around my neck, helped her 

hop to the bedroom. The bed was turned down, and some soft music 

was on. Zylanna sprawled out on the glossy sheets. Her leg, 

clothed in gleaming nylon and black boot, was very sexy; moreover, 

it made her stumps (and breasts) look ultra naked and ultra sexy.



I tore my eyes away and went for a pair of drinks. Zylanna nodded 

thanks and took most of hers in one gulp. I offered a cigarette, 

and again she nodded thanks. I slipped beside her and put her 

handless arm between my legs while I finished the drink and 

smoke. She slowly ran that stump up and down my thigh. Then she 

ooched down and took me in her mouth; her handless forearm con-

tinued to stroke and pet my thigh. She used her lips and tongue 

slowly, lovingly; she was gentle, bringing me back to life. I 

tousled her hair and watched the stump of her leg change shape 

and dimple slightly as she moved. Zylanna began licking my thigh; 

she used her handless arm to play with me.



"I'm so happy about us. I always feel so wanted, feminine, desir-

able and sexy, all at the same time ... ah ... they're talking 

about another experiment ... and ... ah ... thought I might 

mention it ... but ... ah ... I don't want you to take it the 

wrong way ... or get angry ... or be disappointed ... because 

it's just a thought ... an idea ... it wouldn't have to be for 

very long, you know?



I waited.



"I .. ah .. think it would make things even better ... but it's 

up to you, of course ... I can get the details, naturally ... but 

I know it wouldn't be a permanent thing ... it'd be like all 

their experiments ... I mean, it could be as little as six 

months ...."



"C'mon," I said softly, "What is it?"



"Well ... I'd like it if ... if ... you would have a leg amputat-

ed ... Oh, God! ... that sounds so awful ... I'm sorry ... it's 

just that I like it so much when you do things to my stumps that 

I ... ah ... thought I'd like to be able to do those things to 

you ... to your stump ... if you had one ... I thought maybe 

you'd get the same thrill ... Oh Christ! ... it's ridiculous ... 

I'm sorry I said anything ... there's no reason for you to do 

what I did ... I was different. I wanted to be an amputee. God. 

Now I'm asking you to do the same just because I think you'd be 

sexy with a leg amputated ... and I want a stump ... your 

stump ... just for me ... OHHhhhh ... Jesus!..."



I pretended to be thunderstruck. "And I suppose you see us going 

out as amputees, together. I bet you're going to tell me that 

I'll simply have to have a peg leg so we can limp along together, 

hand in hook. We'd be the perfect couple. 'Well, I suppose they 

were just ..ah.. naturally, ha, ha, attracted to each other. Gee, 

she's lost a hand, too. Did you notice their matching peg legs? 

How bizarre.' What do you suppose they'd say if they knew we each 

had a leg and you had a hand amputated on purpose, just because 

we wanted to?"



Zylanna looked uncomfortable, not certain of my reaction. I 

smiled to rob my comments of any possible misunderstanding.



"The question is: which of my legs would you prefer to be a 

stump? I mean, I can't just tell them at MAD that I don't care. 

'Actually, I'm just doing this because my 'tress wants me to have 

a stump. So, it doesn't matter; amputate whichever leg you'd 

like.' I mean, we ought to decide, don't you agree? I think it 

ought to be the right one. Then you could sit on my stump and use 

your stump between my legs. Oops, I won't have legs. Well, you 

know what I mean. And when we're eating each other, our stumps 

could play with each other. Then, too, there'd be a kind of cute 

consistency; like wearing matching shirts: we'd have matching 

stumps, could get matching peg-legs. I bet as soon as I can use a 

FullReal leg all right, you'll want me to not use it at home 

anymore. You're going to want me one-legged all the time when 

we're alone, aren't you? Will I have to hop around naked while 

you ogle me, and lurch back and forth on a peg leg just so you 

can rudely stare? How long 'till my stump'll be ready to ... 

ah... use? How long does it take to get used to a fake leg; ditto 

a peg leg? How long am I going to be an amputee? Just for you?



Zylanna looked ready to cry as she began to answer.



She said that with the special rejuvenators, stump ready in four 

days. FullReal leg fitted next day and, if I tried, I'd be ready 

to go out a day later; peg leg fitted along with FullReal leg, 

and Zylanna (she seemed a little relaxed by this time) was sure 

it wouldn't take very long before I'd be able to 'lurch' around 

so she could 'rudely stare' perhaps that first evening ... if I 

felt like it. MAD would guarantee replacing my leg in six months.



"That is, if you're tired of having your stump fondled and loved 

by my hands and mouth and breasts and hook and stumps and 

things." Zylanna was smiling, now. "I'm excited, but I want you 

to really think about it; be sure you're sure. I don't want it to 

turn out badly; I want it to be a special thing for us."



Zylanna's appraisal of having a leg specially amputated by MAD 

was correct. I was up and around the next day, either hopping or 

using crutches. When the bandages came off, Zylanna made a big 

deal of handling and petting my new stump with her breasts and 

mouth and both of her stumps. The sensations were not in the 

least commonplace! She seemed to know this and, during the fol-

lowing days, took every opportunity to ..ah.. do things to my 

(her) brand new stump. MAD/FullReal understood their business, 

and the leg and peg leg (stump bucket and two pegs, actually) 

were delivered right on time and fit perfectly.



Six days later, after work (I told everyone I'd twisted my ankle) 

I limped into Bradford's, with Zylanna on my arm. She was full 

normal and assured me that my limp did just look like I'd hurt my 

leg or something. Zylanna had plenty to drink. When we got home, 

she stayed fully dressed and slouched on the couch, while I got 

drinks.



"Take off your clothes. Put on your peg leg. I want to watch you 

limp around. I want to look at you when your amputated leg is 

replaced by rigid pole. It makes you sexy. I like the way you 

bounce. Please? Just for me. After all, if you had your leg cut 

off just for me, it seems reasonable that you'd show off your 

maimed body. Just for me."



I did. It wasn't too long before she was doing the same for me: 

showing off her maimed body, I mean.



One of the best parts is going to sleep (after all kinds of 

amputee affection, naturally). Zylanna likes to sleep on her 

back: I like the reverse. So, we usually end up drifting off that 

way, with me on her right. I've got my face in her sweet-smelling 

hair and neck, my arm across her breasts, with the stump of her 

arm in my hand, and our amputated legs are comfortably nestled, 

mine on top (our stumps love to snuggle and feel each other). I 

find the arrangement to be ..ah.. adequate.



And, of course, we did go out as amputees, together ....



We were window shopping, walking hand in hand. My stride was 

shorter to match Zylanna's. Our peg legs, swung together, rigidly 

struck the pavement in unison, but, despite the slight jolt, the 

soft rubber tip made little or no sound. The only noise came from 

Zylanna's fiberglass clog: a 'TAP', as its tall heel struck, 

followed closely by another when the sole landed: TAP-tap ... 

TAP-tap ... TAP-tap ... TAP-tap ... (every other step).



Despite feeling somewhat self conscious, I was having a good 

time. Zylanna was used to how people looked at her when she was 

in her one-legged state: and I was used to how they looked at 

her, too. But now I was one-legged, too, and a neophyte at that. 

Being out and about as amputees made us the subject of great 

interest. People noticed us, of course, and most reacted; some 

took a second glance, some stared, some stared rudely. Zylanna 

changed sides.



"Let's get a drink and maybe quick bite. Then let's get home and 

turn each other on with our 'mutilated' bodies. And make sordid 

love, in front of the cameras." Zylanna closed her hook on my 

fingers and gave a gentle tug. "Please!"