SECRET DESIRE








Other little girls played with dolls or dreamed of being housewives, nurses or 


movie stars. But as she grew up, Ellen knew exactly what she wanted to be... A 


cripple.


More than anything else in the world, Ellen wanted herself crippled for life, by the 


amputation of one leg. Her first sight of a one-legged person came, when Ellen 


was four, and while it was only a rather battered middle-aged bum, she found 


him violently exciting and fascinating. From then on, her fiercest and most 


personal wish was to be like the one-legged man and spend her life walking on 


crutches. Every chance she got, Ellen played at being that way. After her 


parents were asleep, she would often get up very quietly: then she  would  tie up 


her left leg with an old strap that was in her junkbox of broken toys. Then sheâd 


put on a dress and go softly hopping and hitching about the room on one leg, 


pretending she was grown up and having dates with men.


Later, she grew into adolescence and became more intensely responsive to men 


and to her own secret dream of being a cripple.  She took to seeking out places 


where she might either see crippled men (which gave her a second-hand thrill as 


they hobbled about and she could imagine herself going through the same 


movements) or might possibly see women with a leg off. On one never-to-be-


forgotten occasion, while loitering near one of the artificial limb shops, Ellen 


actually saw a woman on crutches who was apparently recently amputated since 


she walked very carefully and held her short stump ahead of her in an odd, and 


to Ellen, very exciting manner. Despite her own disdain for such horrors as 


artificial limbs, Ellen imagined she had more likelihood of seeing exciting people 


around such places than just by random looking about town, so she made a point 


of passing these several shops whenever possible.


Her most immediate target was a job. Not that she loved work, but a job meant 


independence and the chance to have a place of her own. The mere thought 


sent deep tingles through her body as she imagined herself playing cripple in 


privacy without hindrance.


This miracle came about naturally as she graduated from high school and found 


a job. Being exceptionally pretty and rather astonishingly curvaceous, she had 


little difficulty in her search for employment, and at the ripe old age of 18 she 


found herself earning enough to live on quite comfortably.


The search for an apartment was the most exciting quest of her life up till now, 


since its chief advantage lay in itâs offering her a safe and private world for the 


enjoyment of what had by now become an overpowering and almost incessant 


desire.


The day she rented her tiny and very private apartment (it was a quaint little 


detached cottage with his own small walled garden where she knew she could 


cavort in utter privacy), Ellen was so thrilled she could hardly keep herself in 


control.  The place was all furnished and she merely had to gather her clothes 


and a small assortment of personal things and move right in. This delightful 


change in her life occurred on Saturday morning; Saturday afternoon, like any 


new householder, she went shopping. But, not for household things-- she bought 


a pair of crutches.


As a bit of preparation, she bought a broom and a mop at a hardware store she 


passed on the way to the limb store. And after buying the crutches (for a 


mythical sister with a broken ankle), she stopped in the first alley she came to 


and stuffed the precious shiny crutches into the wrapped bundle of cleaning 


implements, thus hiding the crutches quite effectively. Unable to bear the delay 


of a bus ride, she squandered a precious two dollars on a cab and arrived home 


at her small abode in ten minutes. Heart thundering as she hurried inside, she 


closed and locked the door, made sure her drapes were closed, and with 


trembling hands undid the strings and got out the beautiful gleaming crutches. 


The mop and broom, she quickly put away and forgot.


Always before she has either hopped or else used a crude sort of broomstick 


with a padded top for a crutch, but now, at long last, she had real genuine 


crutches. Impulsively, she kissed the satiny things, then taking them into the 


miniature bedroom, leaned them by the bed and stripped off her clothes. 


Impatient to enjoy them, but wanting her first experience on them to be the 


beautiful and exciting event she had dreamed about so long, she dressed herself 


carefully and beautifully in her prettiest dress.... one she had recently bought 


with just this use in mind. The skirt was full and pretty and would completely hide 


the tell-tale bulge of her foot when her leg was bound up.


She made up and did her hair nicely and then pulling up her skirt and sitting on 


the bed with her long lovely left leg doubled under her, she proceeded to bind 


the doubled limb tightly and thoroughly with a long thin nylon strap she had 


bought at a camping supply department in a local department store. The strap 


was good six feet long and she was able to wind it around her leg several times, 


completely immobilizing the leg and making it into a helpless, if much too long 


stump. To help keep her foot snug against her bottom and to heighten the effect 


of true one-leggedness, she then put on a very tight pair of shorts. She had to 


tug and twist and strain to get them zipped with the added fullness of her small 


foot tucked in the seat, but when she had accomplished this, what with the snug 


binding and the shorts and her natural pliancy, she was almost as one-legged as 


though her leg really was cut off at the knee. Her heart thundered in wild delight 


as she completed her task, and as she caught hold of the bedpost and helped 


herself to stand and let her full skirt fall in graceful natural folds, she pivoted and 


looked in the mirror. The illusion was utterly perfect. There, looking lovely and 


charming, stood a beautiful girl with only one leg.


After admiring the perfection of the illusion briefly, she hopped nimbly to the 


crutches and slipped them under her shoulders. Never did rider approach a 


mount with such delight. She took an experimental turn about the room, 


swinging herself along gracefully and easily. The crutches were superb. She felt 


glorious.  She was glad she had bought the expensive pair-- the wood was like 


satin--so pretty and the finish was handrubbed.


Ellen crutched around the little house for some minutes, enjoying her first real 


privacy and her most real-seeming crippledness in all her life.  She opened the 


door onto the garden and went out.  There, in as near privacy as she enjoyed 


indoors, she walked about and soaked in the joy of her secret fun. 


Experimentally, she sat down on a low lounge seat and laid her two lovely 


crutches on the ground, then posed herself in a graceful and very one-legged 


position. Picking up the crutches, she rose to her one foot with lithe grace and 


slipping the crutches in place, walked about the garden again, then went inside. 


Feeling a sudden urge to cripple herself still further, she returned to the bedroom 


and taking off her dress, and getting out a very snug little vest or waistcoat, she 


put that on with her right arm at her side, imprisoned by the jacket. When the 


jacket was buttoned, her arm was bound to her side so firmly she could hardly 


stir it at all. She clumsily donned her dress again enjoying the empty way her 


right sleeve now dangled and swung as she moved. It took some doing to get 


her snug dress zipped shut with her right arm inside, but by holding her breath 


and sucking in her waist and diaphragm, she managed it. She rather enjoyed the 


tight laced feeling, and as for her arm.... for all the use it now was, it too might 


have been amputated.


Sliding the spare crutch under the bed out of sight, she got up and with more 


care and slowness the before, began crutching about the house, now a one-


armed and one-legged cripple.


But just walking about was not enough. She started supper, still on her crutch 


and with only one arm to use. It took her several times as long and once she fell 


sprawling in trying to reach something that was just beyond her grasp, but even 


the fall excited her, dramatizing as it did her assumed crippledness. As she sat 


down to eat and began awkwardly feeding herself with her left hand, Ellen knew 


that, however she was going to manage it, she absolutely had to be a real 


cripple...  this delirious joy she now felt when she was free to be and do just as 


she wanted to do, was still more proof that she could never feel satisfied or fully 


alive until she had one leg actually cut off... and very high too, so she would be 


very one-legged.


As for the arm... the thought of also being one-armed thrilled her a great deal ... 


not so much for its own sake as because it made her one-leggedness many 


times as difficult and dramatic.  But cold reality made her abandon that dream 


as being too drastic. With only one leg she could still probably find a job... or 


even hold the one she now had. But with her good right arm off, she could hardly 


be so childishly optimistic as to hope anyone would hire her; what could she do 


to earn her living? So the arm idea was just one of those delightful fantasies to 


be enjoyed only as such. But the leg... that was feasible, she felt.


After doing the dishes (and breaking two in her one-arm fumbling), she decided 


on a still more adventurous experience. It was now quite dark out, and she would 


chance a brief stroll along a dim side street.


Wanting to savor her one-leggedness to her fullest, she undressed and freed her 


arm and after rubbing it back to life, dressed again, still leaving her leg bound. 


Years of the hobby had made her able to stand it tied up for long periods, so it 


was no problem yet.


Making sure her hair and makeup were in perfect order, she got out the second 


crutch and went to the closet for a hat and gloves and a light jacket... and a 


handbag, or course... one more item to complicate her in her movements on the 


crutches. She took a big one, enjoying the way it banged on her crutch and 


added itâs bit to her total difficulty.


Peeking out, she saw the way was clear and no one was going to see her leave 


the house. She switched off all the lights, then softly let herself out and as quietly 


as possible made her way to the south exit of he courtyard, remembering it led 


to a rather secluded and quiet back-street area.


Once away from the cluster of small cottages and in completely unfamiliar 


territory, she felt excited all over again. This was even more real than home... 


here she might be seen and her one-leggedness accepted as real. She slowly 


and casually strolled along listening appreciatively to the sounds of her one 


spike-heeled shoe and the soft, in between thud of the new crutches.


ãCrippled Ellen.ä, she whispered into the darkness, liking the appealing sound of 


the appellation.


As she crutched along, Ellen tried to pretend it was real and she was enjoying 


her first stroll after the amputation of her leg. But as always, the real, the 


ultimate thrill of realism was missing. Many times in her play she had reached 


this barrier... this intrusion of fact that limited her complete enjoyment of the 


crippled fantasy. She knew that only the final reality of actually being one-legged 


would get her past that impregnable barrier of reality and allow complete 


enjoyment. Suddenly bored with the whole imitation, she whirled about and went 


homeward, swinging along as fast as she could, now eager to abandon the game 


for tonight. Once inside her little home, she got out of her things and spent a 


painful ten minutes restoring the circulation to her almost paralyzed left leg, 


then, still limping a little, she went to the closet and got out her locked box of 


secret treasures. Opening it, she took out a folder of clippings. Over the years, 


by assiduous scanning of every newspaper she saw, Ellen had found three 


priceless pictures of one-legged girls, and these she studied and enjoyed by the 


hour, as she was now doing, trying to imagine herself in that fix and how she 


would do things.


Later, she got out her sketch pad and for another hour or so made fashion- style 


drawings of one-legged women in various gorgeous gowns and other outfits, 


some of which discreetly camouflaged their missing leg (in a way, this 


dramatized it too since it needed hiding), and others which boldly displayed or 


flaunted the lost limb or showed the shape of the short helpless stump poking 


out against skirt or shorts.


About midnight, tired and a bit tense from hours and hours of excited 


concentration on her secret desire, Ellen went to bed. As a last chore, she 


propped up the beautiful crutches where she would see them when she awoke.


              


Ellen was starting her second year of tenancy in the little cottage. By now, the 


one-legged game had become her habitual home-role. The moment she got in 


from work, she bound up her left leg and spent the balance of the evening on 


crutches, attending to her house-hold chores with a special enjoyment since her 


simulated one-leggedness made almost every task double difficult or in some 


way emphasized her condition. So much did she play the game that her left leg 


began to show the strain of endless hours tightly bound up.


It was numb often, she limped a little in walking, and strange tingling pains kept 


her awake many nights. But while she well knew the cause, she was now 


helpless to stop the game. The freedom to indulge whenever she wanted  was so 


heady that she could never resist the mood... and the mood was upon her often 


because it could be indulged fuller and freely.


Her latest addiction to the game was a Polaroid camera. With this and an 


automatic release, she had accumulated a vast album of self portraits of herself 


in all the one-legged poses she could contrive... each so posed and so arranged 


in costume and lighting as to give the illusion of reality to her faked handicap.


But even this thrill was wearing thin, and she knew more surely than ever that 


she simply had to achieve the real thing. Even her love life was affected by this 


hounding need... Time after time she had dated attractive men... some her own 


age, others older. But always, she found such dates far less exciting than playing 


one-legged in her own private little home, and it was not just the lure of the 


game nor the lack of attraction for the men... it was not the fact that she had to 


be really one-legged to respond fully to any man.  This she knew positively. 


Also, the men would have to like her better with one leg than otherwise.  Very 


complicated.


But when a person clings stubbornly to an idea, there is usually some sort of 


fulfillment in time.  When Ellen was 21, she met Doctor Rand.


Not by chance had she worked herself into a circle of acquaintances who were 


linked to the medical profession.


After a dozen false scents and a lot of wasted time, Ellen had learned of a doctor 


(late thirties they said) who was a specialist in amputations. To Ellen this meant 


either he had a natural aptitude for that branch of surgery... or, he had a natural 


interest in the result.


Either way, he was worth knowing... she might hear some exciting case histories 


from him if nothing else.


Being at the height of her beauty and having a devastating amount of charm 


when she felt called on to use it, Ellen had Larry Rand hooked and spellbound 


within ten minutes of stopping in his office for a checkup. She used her 


bothersome left leg as an excuse, and smiled to herself as she noted his rather 


intensely preoccupied look as he examined that flawlessly gorgeous 


underpinning.  While he was unable to find anything obviously wrong with the 


leg, he seemed reluctant to have her leave, and when she artfully prompted him 


to talk of his work, he was only too glad for an excuse to keep her there longer.


As he talked and Ellen listened, her face showing her keen interest and her 


occasional questions urging him to still more detailed descriptions of various 


operations he had performed and the after-histories of a number of one-legged 


women and the like, Ellen formed the definite impression that he was as haunted 


by the subject as she was, and this, combined with his now almost outspoken 


admiration for her gave her reason to hope that she must might wheedle him 


into making her into the one-legged creature she had always longed to be.


She let him call her. She had supper with him. She flirted with him sweetly and 


provocatively. She found herself so excited by the thought of his potential role in 


her life that she was able to respond to him passionately, and her little home 


became the scene of many deliriously exciting love games.


For some weeks this apparently innocent love affair continued its happy course. 


Then one night Ellen again steered him into talking of his work, and on this 


occasion, having reached a great degree of intimacy with Larry, she could detect 


the same revealing tell-tale expression and the same revealing movements of 


his hands in discussing the plight of a certain one-legged matron he had 


attended... the same signs he gave when he was physically excited by Ellenâs 


lovemaking and deliberate physical displays she used to tease and arouse him.


ãLarry dear... ã, she said softly..., ãwhat if I had only one leg... would you still love 


me?ä


She smiled to herself at this telltale blush; she well knew at this point that he 


must often envision her like that.


ãWhy.... why Iâd love you anyhow... of course.ä, he said uncertainly, still off 


balance from the directness of her question.


ãDarling... in your studies or in your practice...  did you ever hear of people who 


actually want to be crippled or disabled?ä


He nodded, ãYes... itâs not unknown in the literature... though I canât say I ever 


met anyone with that bias... why?ä


ãOh, just wondering. I know there are such peopleä, she said casually, then 


looking at him directly... ãLarry... would you be repelled by the thought that I had 


that crazy yearning?ä


ãYou mean... if you wanted to be a cripple, would it offend me or make me lose 


interest in you?ä


She nodded.


He shook his head... ãCertainly not... it would be very interesting, in view of my 


specialty... why do you ask?ä


Ellen shrugged... ãWait here, Iâll just be a moment... I want to show you 


something.ä


Getting up she went to the bedroom and closed the door. Something told her this 


was the moment to strike. She got out the crutches and the pretty dress and the 


strap and the shorts. With the swift skill resulting from months of repetition, she 


bound up her leg and wriggled into the glove-tight shorts then put on the dress 


and after a final glance in the mirror, got the crutches and went to the door. 


Opening it, she said... ãDarling...  look.ä and posed there leaning gracefully on 


her crutches and looking so convincingly one-legged that Larryâs eyes opened 


wide and so did his mouth.





She came crutching across the room, slow and graceful, and enjoyed his almost 


hypnotized stare of pure desire.


Knowing his face and his expressions so well now, she was at last sure of her 


original suspicions...  he was her male counterpart... she wanted to be a one-


legged cripple, and he wanted to make her one..


As she sank down at his side on the couch and deftly laid her crutches on the 


floor, she looked at him. ãNow can you guess my limp? My leg is slowly 


becoming paralyzed from being bound up like this every blessed moment Iâm not 


at work or with friends. Darling... Iâm one of those crazy people who wants to be 


a real cripple..., more than you can possibly imagine... All my life Iâve dreamt of 


having my left leg off, and this is the best I can do.ä


She saw beads of perspiration on his forehead as he listened to her candid 


admission of her secret desire. Far into the night they talked. Out of a sense of 


duty he at first tried to dissuade her, but when he found he could not change her 


desire, he swung over to her side and for hours they talked of how it would be 


if...


When he left, Larry had agreed to do it for her and to start the arrangements at 


once.





The hospital was one of those small private affairs; he had rented it for a week 


and arranged for one nurse who had no curiosity and whose only interest in life 


was a well-greased palm. Ellen was too excited to say much as he prepared for 


the operation, and just before the anesthetic she reminded him again... ãVery 


high up darling...  just a tiny little useless bit of a stump... like a little round 


mushroom... so Iâll really and truly be a one-legged girl for the rest of my life.ä


When Ellen awoke next day, she drowsily glanced down at her body, and with 


dreamy satisfaction noted the very short stub-end of left thigh outlined by the 


bedclothes. She fell asleep enjoying the most serene satisfaction she had ever 


felt... She was ãCrippled Ellenä now, all right...  for now and forever...


Being a very healthy girl and having undergone amputation while in perfect 


health and strength, she made a swift recovery, and by the end of the allotted 


week, she was taking her first cautious steps on the familiar crutches... only now 


with a real reason, not a fake one.


She could hardly wait to get well and to appear in public.


                 


Her first day back at the office was, to put it mildly, a sensation. They had all 


been increasingly aware of her limping, and when she had taken leave of 


absence to have surgery, they had all assumed some minor correction would 


ensue.  The day she returned to work, Ellen deliberately wore a very short and 


very tight dress. If she had worn a loose full dress with a long skirt, many people 


would have assumed her leg was simply bandaged and bound up out of sight for 


some medical reason, but she wanted her one-leggedness to be starkly obvious 


at the first glance. The snugness of the skirt and its shortness, as well as the 


telltale bulge of her short little stump of left thigh left no possible room for doubt 


that she was, in fact, missing her whole left leg.


As she came swinging into office on her beloved crutches, she savored the looks 


of absolute shock and consternation the other girls gave her.


ãOh God.ä, gasped Francine... ãYou poor kid..., I didnât realize it was that 


serious.ä, she stammered, staring in shocked horror at the all-too clear fact of 


Ellenâs missing leg and the never-to-be-relinquished crutches.


For some time, the office was filled with gasps of dismay and tearful words of 


sympathy; there in a candid nutshell, she had a view of how people in general 


would react to the sight of a lovely young girl with a leg cut off.


They sympathized with her, they admired her courage, they tried to help her, and 


she drank it all in as tasty background for her new life as a permanently crippled 


girl.


As for Larry... he was attention itself. His ardor and his affection were vastly 


greater than before, and she knew that he enjoyed her as she was nearly as 


much as she liked it.


                        


Her habits and her wardrobe altered.


She now loved going out. Larry took her everywhere, and they both shared the 


thrill of her being on display and the way people stared and whispered. She wore 


the tightest and shortest of dresses and skirts, chose the most teetery spike-


heeled shoes, and the sheerest most glamorous hose for her one long lovely leg. 


She wore the briefest of swimsuits when they went to a fashionable pool or 


beach and the scantiest and most daring of playsuits when they went picnicking 


or playing tennis. She indulged in any and every activity that was hard to do and 


would therefore dramatize her missing leg, and she adapted her whole way of 


life to the role of the beautiful one-legged girl.


And in the back of her mind lurked the further and still more exciting dream of 


perhaps... someday...  becoming also one-armed. She knew Larry would do that 


for her anytime... and the knowledge was terribly tempting. But first she wanted 


to squeeze every possible experience and thrill from the one-leggedness before 


she resorted to the vastly more hampering and crippling complication of loosing 


her terribly necessary right arm. She was still very young and had many years 


ahead of her in which to enjoy it all.


Nights, in bed with Larry, they would excite themselves by discussing her 


condition, the way she did things, the way she looked in various poses and types 


of clothes, and they often tempted themselves by discussions of hypothetical 


additional handicaps. Larry was quite fascinated by the thought of her being one-


armed too, and that was their favorite theme, but as times they toyed with other 


combinations... both legs off or both arms and one leg... even all four limbs. But 


they agreed that whatever the ultimate result (and they had no idea yet just how 


far they really dared carry this wild idea), it had to come stage by stage so they 


could share and enjoy all the possible delights of each new combinations of 


handicaps as they arrived.


In the meantime, Ellen was so delightfully one-legged, so beautiful and so 


wonderfully eye-filling  that they were in no hurry to go beyond this paradise just 


yet.  At times their desires rose to such heights that they invented various 


makeshift handicaps to increase her disability. They would  bind one or both 


arms to her side, or tie up her  leg so she had to get about the little house on her 


hands and bottom. 


But whatever they did, this central fact of Ellenâs missing leg was the pivotal 


point for all their interests and plans. The present was perfect; the future, 


with Ellen still more handicapped, would only be that much more wonderful.


PART 2


As so often happens, fate intervened in Ellen and Larryâs games.  One day, Ellen 


was out walking, wearing a  spike-heeled high lace boot.  She had become as 


agile on her single leg as most people on two legs, so she did not hesitate to 


cross the busy street where so much construction was taking place.  She was 


startled by the sudden blare of the cement truckâs horn, and failed to see the 


grating which caught her heel and one of her crutches, causing her to fall directly 


into the path of the truck.  





She awoke in the hospital.  Dr. Rand--Larry--and a nurse were standing beside 


her.  She raised her head as much as she could, and saw that the sheets lay flat 


at the end of the bed--and she couldnât feel her right arm.  It hurt terribly to turn 


her head, but she looked and saw  her right shoulder  swathed in bandages.  She 


had no idea of what had happened.





The cement truck had been unable to avoid her sprawled figure on the street, 


and had crushed both her only leg and her right arm so completely that 


amputation was the only option.  Dr. Rand had been the surgeon on duty when 


they brought her to the hospital, and he immediately took over when he heard 


that she had been brought into the Emergency Room.  





Her right arm and part of the shoulder had to be removed, leaving no stump at 


all.  But he used his greatest skills to sculpt the armless shoulder into a smooth 


and aesthetically pleasing form, taking great care that the scars would be as 


small and neat as possible.  





Turning then to the mangled leg, he saw that it might be possible to save slightly 


more of her right leg than remained of her other stump.  He paused, thought 


deeply.  He was tired, but he knew that Ellen would trust his judgment as he 


carefully selected an amputation site that matched exactly her perfect little left 


stump.  He was deeply intent on his work, but  in the back of his mind stirred 


thoughts of the fun he and Ellen could have once she was healed.  





Of course, healing would take longer this time.  The crash had been horrific, and 


she had had internal injuries.  But through it all, she was in magnificent health, 


and if anyone would heal quickly from this trauma, it would be Ellen.





 Ellen grieved for her lost limbs for perhaps a day, thinking wistfully of the 


permanence of her crippledness now.  But Larry was there, and he had assured 


her he would stay.  She knew he would become her husband, for she would 


need his help now.  Two days after her accident and surgery, she asked the 


nurse if she could see herself in a mirror.  The nurse was hesitant until Ellen 


threatened to call for Dr. Rand.





The sight she saw in the mirror was distressing.  Her hair had been shaved off 


and the right side of her skull was bandaged.  Her face remained a swollen mass 


of purple bruises, beginning to turn yellow.  Her right shoulder was swathed in 


lumpy bandages that wrapped around her torso.  Her left arm was strapped 


down, and three separate IV feeds were plugged in.  And her entire pelvis was 


wrapped in such thick bandages that she looked pregnant.  To top it off, she was 


sore everywhere.





But Larry looked in on her many times a day, and assured her that in a week or 


so he could get her moved to a rehab wing--and that she might be able to go 


home in a month.  Of course, she would have to go to Larryâs place, because 


she would need a place with enough room for a wheelchair, for she would no 


longer be crutching around.  





Eight days after her accident, Larry had found a rehab nursing home near his 


house, and arranged to have her transferred there.  He encountered some 


questions from his colleagues at the hospital, but managed to  assure them that 


he knew her strengths well enough to be sure that this was the proper course.  





She was transferred to the nursing home on a gurney, being still too sore and 


constricted by her dressings to be able to sit.  The nursing home a very non-


institutional looking place.  Its specialty was younger people who, like Ellen, had 


suffered severe trauma, but needed further healing before they could begin the 


full course of rehabilitation.  All of the other current patients were spinal cord 


injury victims;  Ellen was a curiosity to the staff, for they had had few amputees.  





Dr. Rand had arranged for Ellen to have a special nurse with surgical training to 


oversee her physical healing.  Even by the time she was moved from the 


hospital, the bandages were much smaller, and the bruises were disappearing 


rapidly.  When Larry came to see her the evening she arrived at the nursing 


home, he and the nurse reduced the bandages to mere patches that protected 


the incisions.  Then, dismissing the nurse, he carefully removed her gown and 


gently elevated the bed so she could see herself better in the mirror he held for 


her.





Her right shoulder was still puffy, as was her leg stump; it looked nearly twice the 


size of her left stump.  But she could see that the scars would be small.  Larry 


had warned about trying to move anything that remained on her right side, but 


she couldnât resist trying to move the stump.  As she did, pain shot through her, 


and she felt pain all the way down to her non-existent toe.  She thought that 


strange, for she had never had a bit of phantom pain from her long-gone left leg.  


She cried out.





Larry leaned over, kissed her gently on the lips, squeezed her hand, and ever so 


gently began to stroke the new stump; it might take months, he explained gently, 


for the phantoms to disappear because of the traumatic nature of her injuries.  It 


might even require additional neurosurgery.  But he was an expert at making 


phantom pain disappear, he said.  And besides, all his patients told him that 


lovemaking always made the phantoms go away.  He promised that if she could 


hold out for a month, he would personally ease the phantoms away.





And he asked her to marry him.  She brightened perceptibly.  ãYou mean you 


really do want me like this...a helpless cripple?ä





ãEllen, you know I want you...however you are, because I want you for what you 


are.  You are the sexiest and the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that Iâve 


ever knownä he said, lifting her gently into his lap as he sat on the bed.  She put 


her arm around him, wincing slightly as the not yet completely healed muscles 


moved.





ãAnd I want you, Larry.  I think we can find wonderful things to do together,ä she 


said, rubbing his nose with hers.ä





In six weeks, Ellenâs scars were healed, and she had worked out most all of the 


soreness and stiffness created by the multiple sprains from the accident.  She 


had mastered the precarious art of sitting upright with only her tiny leg stumps 


for balance.  The phantom sensations were easing, and she was well on the way 


to regaining the remarkable fitness she had enjoyed even when she was one-


legged.  She loved the water: she could swim immediately, but she spent hours 


perfecting a stroke that enabled her to propel herself through the water very 


efficiently.





Ellen enjoyed competing with the paraplegics who were the other residents of 


the nursing home, for she realized that she was far less impaired than they were, 


even though their disability was far less obvious to the casual onlooker.  She 


could swim faster, and she could handle herself better in daily tasks.  She did 


not gloat, for she knew her advantage had to do with the fact that all the 


remaining body parts she had worked--she had no dead weight to move around.  


She found herself pitying the paras and quads, but having no slightest desire to 


be like them.





She was ready to leave the nursing home,  and Larry had come to discuss the 


modifications he was making to his home to accommodate her wheelchair-


bound lifestyle.  Suddenly, she placed her hand on his lips.   ãLarry, I want to be 


married to you before I move in with you.  Iâve been thinking about this, and we 


could have the most wonderful wedding.  Iâve even talked with my mom.  Sheâll 


make a special wedding dress for me with only one sleeve and a little ruffled 


bottom.  Dad can push me down the aisle in my wheelchair, and when we get to 


the part about Îwho presents this woman to be married to this manâ, well, you 


and Dad can lift me up onto a platform that will hold me at my original height 


beside you.  Doesnât that sound wonderful?ä





Larry was dumbstruck at Ellenâs garrulousness.  Heâd been wondering if she was 


sinking into depression about her condition.  If she had, she was out of it now.  


ãWell, thatâs great, darling--I guess youâve been busier than I thought.ä





ãOh, I have, sweetheart, I have.  And I just learned that my company has  


insurance  that will pay a lifetime disability income thatâs much better than I ever 


made at work.  Iâve got so many ideas, I just canât wait to get started.  I even 


scheduled a wedding date for two weeks from now--you can make it, canât you?ä  


Larry saw in Ellen the effervescence he had noted when she first found her Îsea 


legâ after heâd amputated her left leg.





The wedding was spectacular.  Everything went perfectly until Ellen lost her 


balance and started to topple from her platform just as the minister was coming 


to the conclusion of the ceremony.  Larry caught her before she crashed and 


placed her on his right hip.  She held draped her arm over his shoulders and 


gripped him firmly with the little leg stumps that gave her just enough support for 


confidence.  The short skirt of her wedding gown revealed the blue garters on 


each of her white-stockinged stumps. 





The minister had stood looking a bit helpless, but continued when Ellen, whoâd 


never lost her composure, nodded to him to continue.  The wedding concluded 


with the traditional kiss to the bride and the Larryâs untraditional act of carrying 


his bride out in his arms.





******





It was harder for Ellen to adapt to her new level of disability than she had 


expected because mobility was a real problem for her.  Hopping on one foot was 


something sheâd done all her life, but  what could she do now?  The most 


obvious answer was a wheelchair, but she found she couldnât propel and steer it 


with her one arm.  Larry got her a powered chair with a hand control, and it got 


her around, but it lacked excitement. It was heavy and awkward, though it was 


adequate for use in the house.





She and her husband designed a powered chair based on the racing chairs that 


paraplegics used.  Its light weight and advanced controls gave her part of what 


she wanted.  The chair was light enough, and she was strong enough that she 


could easily get in and out of her car alone, so she was not tied to her home as 


she feared she might be.  





Since she could no longer move so quickly under her own power, she took to 


driving her one-hand controlled car very assertively.  Sheâd had it equipped with 


a joystick that gave her complete and very accurate control of the car and all its 


accessories from a single handle.  Getting her license renewed when the time 


came was an interesting experience, because her examiner had not yet realized 


that hand signals, besides being obsolete, would cause her to lose control of the 


car.  Nevertheless, she was fully mobile again just a very few months after she 


became a triple amputee.





Being naturally athletic, Ellen also learned to balance on her hand, and soon 


could hop around the house very easily.  She surprised Larry with it one night 


when heâd come home late from a complex surgery, and he laughed so hard he 


nearly cried.  It was then he decided he should encourage her to use her natural 


talent and enthusiasm as a rehabilitation counselor with his patients.  But that 


could wait.





Their lovemaking grew more adventuresome as they experimented with new 


positions made possible by her leglessness.  As it happened, she fit so perfectly 


in his lap that they could, if they chose, make love in public if they exercised 


caution and restraint in their normally noisy and rambunctious style.  





Ellen had lost a little in athleticism, since her stumps were too short to enable 


her to grasp Larryâs legs except when he held her on his hip.  But she discovered 


that she could actually walk on her stumps if she used her hand for balance.  


She had soon made a body glove that fit her stumps closely and provided extra 


padding on the bottom of the stumps so she could walk around.  She didnât go 


out in public in this rig, but she did use it in her walled garden.





As time went on, Ellen realized she was very happy: she had realized her 


childhood dream to a degree she never would have though possible.  She was 


happily married to Larry, they had more than enough money to afford the special 


adaptive equipment that kept her disability from being a burden.  Perhaps most 


satisfying of all, she realized that she was a very effective counselor to Larryâs 


patients in helping them take the first steps toward independent living.  





Not all was rosy, of course: life never is.  She always felt clumsy doing fine tasks 


with her hand.  Her handwriting had been exquisite when she had a right arm, 


and now she regarded it as a childish scrawl.  The loss of three limbs had 


reduced her body mass to less than half of what it was when she was whole.  


Two troublesome consequences flowed from that: first, she had to be very 


careful to avoid gaining weight, simply because there was so much less of her, 


meaning that she simply required less food; second, her reduced skin area made 


her very sensitive to overheating.  And, since alcohol capacity is directly 


sensitive to body mass, one normal size drink could bring her perilously close to 


drunk.  Finally, her tiny leg stumps simply were too short to be of much use 


except in maintaining her balance sitting upright.





When she turned thirty, two things were on Ellenâs mind.  She had always loved 


dramatic shoes, even when she was one-legged.  Now they were meaningless, 


but she did long for them.  More important, Ellen had always liked children, and 


she realized that time was passing.  She wondered if, as a cripple, she could be 


a good mother.  Larry had already provided her with household help, for, in truth, 


housekeeping was very  tiring when she tried to do it all with the one arm that 


remained to her.  





Before she could even discuss children with Larry, another disaster befell her, 


one that would leave her utterly limbless, possessing no stumps at all.  She 


developed osteosarcoma in her arm, requiring  not only its removal, but also 


complete removal of her collarbone and shoulder blades.  The operation, known 


as a bilateral forequarter amputation, was exceedingly rare.   The oncologist who 


performed the amputation recommended a bilateral mastectomy as well, but 


Ellen refused, with Larryâs consent.  Her previous amputations had, for unknown 


reasons, heightened her breastsâ erogenous sensitivity, and she would not forgo 


that pleasure.  During the numerous tests, the presence of some cancer cells in 


her leg stumps made it imperative to disarticulate them at the hip joints.  Ellen 


refused to go further, because she knew that she required an intact pelvis in 


order to bear children.





For the first time in her life, Ellen was truly depressed.  She had always wanted 


to be a cripple, but now she was totally helpless.  She could not feed or dress 


herself, and while she accepted the loss of her leg stumps,  losing her shoulders 


meant that she lacked any appendage to manipulate her environment.





But Larry loved her more than ever.  And  even though he was now completely 


in control of their lovemaking, he always showed tenderness when he held her.  


He added a full-time attendant to their household staff, so she always had the 


help she needed.  





Swimming, too, helped her come to terms with her minimized torso.  She worked 


assiduously at developing a graceful serpentine motion in the water.  Because 


her shape was so sleek, she was soon very fast.  She liked to wear close-fitting 


body stockings that covered her from the neck down.





Her radiation and chemotherapy continued for a year.  It was successful, for she 


showed no slightest sign of any cancer at its end.  She was ready and anxious, 


at 31, to bear Larryâs child.  And she intended to nurse her child.











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