The New Job

By Ed Carlson

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This story is purely fictitious. The names used herein are for character

identification and should not be construed as real people, alive or dead.

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“Good morning,” I said as I kissed his ear. “Time to get up sleepy head.”

It had been a late night, and neither John nor I wanted to get up. He’d been living with me for about a month now. My two-bedroom apartment is plenty big enough for two people. We both worked for the same construction company.

“Come on Sue, let me sleep,” John replied. “My head is splitting. I don’t think I’m going to make it today.”

“You’re not going to die,” I told him as I used my long beautiful fingers to explore his muscular chest.

He sat up slowly and took my hands and kissed them. “God, you have beautiful hands,” he said. “I like the rest of you too.” He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. I got up and brushed my teeth. I started the coffee and came back into the bedroom. John was still not moving. I stripped off the tee shirt that I use as a nightgown. He was lying on his back as I carefully straddled him. I lightly brushed my very firm 36-D breasts on his chest and up to his mouth. I dropped a little and put the weight of my upper body on his face. He immediately responded by licking my nipple with his tongue.

“I thought that would get you,” I teased as I eased the pressure on his face.

He responded by putting his arms around my neck and forcing me down for a passionate kiss.

Before I got dressed, I stood by the full-length mirror and admired my firm, well-proportioned 36-24-34 body. We went into the kitchen, and John poured the coffee while I made us some toast.

“We’re going to be setting the big concrete vault today,” he said.

“I figured,” I replied. “I saw them bringing it on the job site when we were leaving last night.”

“I wish we hadn’t stopped at the club with the rest of the crew last night,” John said. “Sue, you were the life of the party.”

“I think that next time I’m not going to get in the amateur-night stripping contest,” I said. “That’s just not me. I don’t know if I can look the rest of the crew in the face this morning.”

“It’ll be OK. I’ll be with you. Nobody’s going to give you a hard time,” he said. “Besides, what’s to say? You didn’t leave anything to their imagination.”

“That’s what I mean. Now they’ll be undressing me with their eyes.”

“Why don’t I have you work down in the tunnel while we set the vault? I need someone I can trust to do the line-up while we lower it over the manhole ring,” he said.

“Shit John, I really don’t want to be down there alone; it’s not safe.”

He walked over and gave me a kiss. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anyone else to send down there with you. You’ll be OK.”

“We’ve got to go,” I said. “We’re going to have to get lunch out of the roach-coach today. I don’t have time to fix lunch.”

Traffic was light, and we got there faster than usual. John pulled into his parking spot next to the job shack. Just as soon as I crawled down out of the cab, the hoots and whistles started. John hollered at them to knock it off. John gathered the crew for a quick meeting about setting the vault.

“Good party last night,” one of the guys said.

“I’m still a little groggy,” John replied. “I did enjoy myself though.”

“We all enjoyed the stripper contest,” one of them said. I just looked down at the ground. I could feel everyone’s eyes staring right through my clothes and undressing me with their eyes.

“Enough,” John said. “We need to get the big vault set this morning. It weighs about twenty tons, so we’ll have to rig it to handle the load.” John made the crew assignments and put me down in the tunnel to do the alignment over the manhole ring. I grabbed my tools and a stepladder and started toward the tunnel entrance. “Sue, be careful down there,” John called. “Remember, I won’t be able to see you on the last three feet of the drop.”

“I’ll watch it,” I said back over my shoulder as I continued to the tunnel entrance. I took a couple of steps inside the tunnel and waited for my eyes to adjust. Even though the lights were on, I couldn’t see for a few seconds. The tunnel was about eight feet high and about fifteen feet wide. I walked on down to the hole in the ceiling. This would be the underside of the manhole. I placed the ladder directly under the hole. I looked up and saw the vault swinging around. I climbed up the ladder and stood on the very top as I stuck my head through the ceiling of the tunnel and the manhole ring. My armpits were about level with the top of the manhole ring. John acknowledged that he could see me as he signaled the crane operator.

The manhole ring is a cast iron circle about a half-inch thick and about six inches tall. My job was to be sure that the manhole ring lined up with the hole in the bottom of the vault and that the floor of the vault slips over the manhole ring. The vault continued its slow descent. Eventually, the bottom of the vault was about three feet above the top of the tunnel and John could no longer see me. My ladder had me out of position to properly line up the vault, so I grabbed the top of the manhole ring with both hands. I put my elbows down on both sides of the manhole ring on top of the tunnel. I lifted myself up by my arms and elbows and started to move the stepladder with my feet. The stepladder fell over, and I was left dangling by my elbows through the manhole ring and the hole in the ceiling of the tunnel. I hollered for John, but he couldn’t hear me over the noise of the crane. The vault continued to slowly drop, and my head was soon sticking through the hole in the bottom of the massive vault. I was about to drop to the floor of the tunnel when I felt the bottom of the vault come in contact with my arms. I let go with my hands and relaxed my arms, but I didn’t drop. The pressure on both arms increased as the vault continued its descent. I kept hollering for John as the pain in my trapped arms suddenly grew intense. The hole in the bottom of the vault had lined up perfectly with the manhole ring and was acting like a giant scissors on my arms. I both heard and felt the sound of both upper arm bones snapping at the same time. I kicked and squirmed and heard my shirt rip as I started to fall. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. I landed on my feet and then crumpled to the floor. I looked up and saw the vault continue on down and stop at its final resting place with my shirt sleeves dangling from each side of the hole. I tried to push against the ground with my hands as I tried to stand.

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The light was different in the room. The room smelled different, like antiseptic. I opened my eyes and looked around. An older nurse was standing beside the bed. Both of my arms ached. “Be still now. You’ve had a nasty accident. Try not to move,” she said.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“You’re in the recovery room at the hospital,” she said.

My mouth felt like it was full of cotton. “Could I have some water?” I asked.

“Sure. Here, sip just a little bit,” she said softly as she held the glass and straw up to my lips. I tried to move my hand up to help hold the glass: nothing happened. I tried to move the other hand: nothing happened. I turned my head to the right and saw the bandages on the middle of my upper arm, which suddenly stopped. I turned my head to the left and looked at the other arm. I saw the same thing—bandages on the middle of my upper arm, which suddenly stopped. I raised both arms to get a better look. The shooting pains became intense, and I screamed. She pushed a button on a machine that was attached to me with a tube, and suddenly the pain subsided as my screams turned to sobbing. I felt tired and went to sleep again.

I awoke in dim light. “How are you getting along?” the nurse asked.

“I don’t know. I’m so groggy. My arms hurt,” I said.

“Let me give you something to help you sleep,” she said as she stuck the needle of a syringe in one of the hoses that was attached to me. I closed my eyes.

The warm spring sunshine was streaming through my window as I slowly began to awaken. I looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and tried to remember where I was. It took me a few moments to realize that I was in a hospital. My hands felt like I had cramps, so I tried to move my fingers. I couldn’t make them work. What was wrong with my hands? Why couldn’t I make them work? I looked down and could not see my hands. I began kicking the sheet and blanket until I was completely uncovered. I held my breath as I slowly looked down at the white gown. I raised my arms and looked for my hands, which still cramped. I began screaming hysterically when I saw the heavy bandages on the short stumps of what once were my beautiful arms.

A nurse came running into the room. “Calm down now. Just relax,” she said in a firm but gentle voice.

“My arms are gone! What happened to my arms?” I demanded.

“Lie back and calm down now.”

“Where are my arms?” I sobbed.

“They were gone when the ambulance brought you here,” she replied.

“Oh my God, then it wasn’t a dream,” I said as I continued to sob. “I really don’t have any arms.”

“Your arms were crushed by the concrete vault that was being lowered. They said that you fell once your arms were severed. You lost a lot of blood and were unconscious when they brought you in.”

“God, now I remember. I accidentally kicked over the stepladder just as the vault was coming down,” I sobbed.

“You need to rest,” she said as she pushed a button on a machine that held an IV bottle. “Just relax now. We’ll talk more later. Close your eyes.”

It must have been late afternoon because the sky outside my window had a rosy red glow. I looked down at the bulky bandages on my arm stumps. As long as I didn’t try to move them, they didn’t hurt too bad; they just ached. A doctor and a nurse came into the room.

“I’m Doctor Jones,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m still groggy,” I replied. “My arms hurt when I try to move them.”

“Try not to move them too much yet,” he instructed. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

“Did you try to sew my arms back on?” I asked.

“I would have loved to have had that opportunity,” he said. “Both of your arms were completely crushed by the weight of that concrete vault. They were unrecognizable as arms and hands. They lifted the vault and brought in what was left while you were in surgery. I’m sorry, there was absolutely nothing more I could do.”

The doctor left, and the nurse and I were alone. “How long do you think I’ll be here?” I asked.

“That’s up to you and the doctor,” she replied. “You need to be strong enough to get around, and the scars need to heal. We won’t discharge you if you have a fever. Probably two weeks minimum. Your rehab will probably be on an outpatient basis.”

“Has John been here?” I asked.

“Yes. He was here until you came out of surgery. He said that he would be back tomorrow after work. Why don’t you just lie back and get some rest?”

“Good God. What am I going to do now?” I said as I began to cry. “I don’t have any arms. I feel so helpless.”

“Your going to need some help for a while, but I think that if they can fix you up with prosthetic arms that you should be able to manage quite well.”

I closed my eyes to rest for a moment.

It was morning again when I opened my eyes. A different nurse came in with a breakfast tray. She cranked the bed up and fluffed my pillow. “Ready to eat a little something?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m starting to get hungry,” I replied as she uncovered the food. She unwrapped the silverware and fed me the bowl of oatmeal. She held the glass of milk so that I could drink from the straw. I felt so totally helpless not even being able to feed myself.

“The doctor says that he wants you to try and walk this morning,” the nurse said as she took the empty tray. “Once we get you a bit more mobile, we’ll be able to get rid of some of these tubes.” She came back into the room and pulled back the sheets and disconnected my bladder catheter. Again I felt helpless, not even being able to touch my most private parts and needing someone else do it for me. She left the room and soon came back with a very large orderly and a wide belt. They put the belt on me and helped me sit up. “Well, we’re down to just one IV line. I’ll hook the catheter back up when we get back.” They helped me stand. We paused a minute; then I took a couple of tentative steps. She asked if we could walk to the nurses’ station. We walked out into the corridor and over to a chair. “Why don’t you rest here for a while before we go back?” the nurse said. After a little while, they helped me back into bed. She reattached the catheter hose and left. I was exhausted and fell asleep.

The doctor came in and told the nurse to change the bandages. He told me that this would be extremely painful. I was dying to see what my stumps looked like. He ordered a local anesthetic. The nurse left with him and soon came back with a tray of bandages and a large syringe. She gave me a shot in both shoulders and soon my arms (or more precisely, my arm stubs) were numb. She removed the bandages and cleaned some of the dried blood from the bright red scars. My stumps were all puffy and discolored. She held up a hand mirror so that I could see the tip of the stumps. The sight of them made me feel nauseous, and I thought that I was going to vomit. She applied new dressings and bandaged them tightly. The new bandages were much less bulky than the previous ones. A student nurse came in to give me a bath. She was a pretty young woman with a great figure with a modern blond hair style. She looked like she could be a country singer. She introduced herself as Beth.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

“I’m now a junior in nursing school at college,” Beth replied. “Before that, I spent three years in the Army working in the dispensary. What kind of work do you do?”

“Nothing anymore,” I said as I wiggled my arm stumps a little. “I used to be in construction. I think that career is over. I feel pretty helpless now.”

We chatted as she gave me my bath. I felt a little embarrassed but became quite aroused when she washed my private parts. Touching me didn’t seem to bother her. When she finished with the bath, she offered to fix my hair. I gladly told her to go ahead. She combed out my hair and teased it a little so that it kind of looked like hers. She applied some lipstick and light makeup. I felt almost human again.

She had no sooner left when a handsome, good-looking guy came into the room. He introduced himself as Dave, the prosthetist. He was kind of a turn-on for me. He told me what my options were for new arms. He said that because my arm stumps were only about six inches long that I wouldn’t be able to lift heavy items. He took some measurements and left a pamphlet that described how prosthetic arms worked. He also left information on what type of terminal devices were available. As he left, he said that he would be back next week to take casts once the swelling went down.

In a few minutes, the door opened and John walked in. “Hi, how’re you getting along?” he said in a very tentative voice.

“I’ve been better,” I said. “It won’t be easy, but I’m going to make it.”

He set the flowers down on the table and came over and gave me a little kiss that lacked passion. “The crew got you this card. They sure do feel bad about what happened,” he said as he handed me the card.

“I have a little problem picking things up right now,” I said sarcastically as I wiggled my stumps at his face. “No arms, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I sent you down in that hole,” he choked as tears filled his eyes. “Why did you put your arms out there?”

“The damned step ladder tipped over, and I was caught,” I snapped back. “Why in the hell didn’t you stop the crane when I hollered? John, I’m only twenty-five years old. Look at me; I don’t have any arms. Three days ago, you told me what beautiful hands I had; now I don’t have any.”

“I know. It’s my fault,” he sobbed. “I’m having a problem dealing with this right now.” He had a wide-eyed look on his face as he rushed into my bathroom and vomited. He came back out and said: “I’ve got to go. I just can’t bear to see you like this.” With tears streaming down his face, he turned and bolted out the door.

“John, please come back,” I pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone like this!”

The next morning, Beth came in as soon as she got to work. “How’re you doing?” she asked.

“I’m doing OK,” I said. “I was pretty rough on John last night. But damn it, if he would have done things differently, I would still have my arms rather than just these stumps. If there had been someone down in the tunnel with me, the ladder wouldn’t have tipped over or that person could have radioed the crane operator. God, I’m only twenty-five years old; I’ll be this way the rest of my life.”

Beth looked me straight in the eye and said: “What is done is done. There is no use trying to place blame. You need to concentrate on your life and your limitations and make the best of it. Today is first day of the rest of your life. Are you going to sit around and mope about it or make up your mind to do something with your life? It’s up to you.” She turned and walked out the door.

She was right. I needed to get on with my life and not mope around. Soon she came back into the room with a washcloth and a basin of water. “Thank you; I needed that,” I said. “You are absolutely right. I do need to get on with my life.” She washed my face and took out the catheter and disposed of the urine bag and its contents. She washed and dried my private parts. Somehow, I didn’t seem to mind her touch. I was beginning to enjoy it. When she finished, we looked at the pamphlet on prosthetic arms. She had to go work with other patients but left the pamphlet open to the page on terminal devices.

Later, Beth came back into the room. She was looking a bit dejected. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My landlord just called and is raising my rent,” she replied. “Hell, I can just barely afford that dump now. I sure as hell can’t pay any more.” She had an envelope in her hand. “This is for you. Do you want me to open it?”

“Please do,” I responded. She opened the letter and held it up for me to read. “It’s from John. He can’t stand to be around me. He blames himself for the accident. He’s moving out and leaving town,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Beth said quite compassionately. “There was a key in the envelope.”

“I expected it. Especially after I laid the guilt trip on him last night. Oh well, I guess I need to find a new roommate,” I quipped. “I’ll just stand on the corner and wave my stumps around, and somebody will go home with me.”

“How much do you charge?” Beth asked. “I need a new place. Maybe I could move in and help you when I’m not at work.”

“Wow Beth. That would work out swell,” I exclaimed excitedly. “It’s only about five blocks from here. You could walk to work. You can live there rent free if you help me.” Beth gave me a hug.

“You take that key. Move in as soon as you like.”

It was soon night, and I was tired of watching TV and drifted off to sleep. It was late when I awoke and needed to use the bathroom. I tried to push the call button, but I couldn’t do it. I kicked the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stood up and started for the bathroom. My feet became tangled in the IV tube, and I stumbled forward. Instinctively, I held my arms out to catch my fall. I landed on the ends of both freshly sutured stubs. I screamed in intense pain as I lay writhing on the floor. I even wet my pants. Two night nurses came charging into the room and turned on the light. “Please help me!” I screamed. “I can’t stand the pain!” One of them stayed with me while the other ran out and came back with a local anesthetic. Soon the pain began to subside. “I just wanted to use the bathroom,” I sobbed. “God, I can’t even do that.” They helped me into the bathroom and cleaned up the mess that I had made on the floor. When I finished, one of them wiped me and helped me change my gown. They both steadied me as they helped me back to bed. Luckily, my stitches hadn’t broken. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I kept thinking about how helpless I was without arms. Hell, I couldn’t even wipe my own butt or put in a Tampax.

A week went by and an insurance representative stopped by to tell me that the insurance was covering all my hospital and doctor bills and would pay for non-motorized prosthetic arms. They would pay an amount equal to twice my regular paycheck until such time as we could work out a final settlement. He said that they usually set up the settlement for one lump sum and then monthly payouts. He said that I would only need to work if I wanted and wouldn’t be penalized for it.

The next day, Dave, the prosthetist, came by. I told him what the insurance adjuster had said. Dave said that he had most of the items in stock to build my new arms. We talked terminal devices. I told him that if I was going to have artificial arms, we might as well make them look like artificial arms. I told him that I wanted #5 stainless steel hooks with neoprene lining on the inside to start, but that I wanted to be able to change to another style. I told him that I wanted a flexion wrist and probably the eleven-position elbows.

“Wow, you’ve been doing your homework,” Dave said. He examined my stumps. “When you feel up to it, I want you to come down to the shop, and we can get some casts made up.”

“I don’t have a real pressing schedule,” I said jokingly. “I’m ready to go right now.”

“Do they still use a local anesthetic when they change your bandages?” he said as he lightly squeezed what was left of my once beautiful arms.

“Not for the last two days,” I replied. “But my stumps are still quite tender.”

“That’s normal. Let’s go now,” he said. I got out of bed, and he draped my robe over my shoulders and tied the draw sting. We walked together to the elevator and rode down to his floor. We got out and walked down the basement corridor. I shuddered as the unpainted concrete reminded me of the tunnel. He unlocked the door, and we walked in. He locked the door behind us. The place had no windows. “Right this way into the back room.” It was an amazing room filled with all kinds of artificial legs and arms. “Welcome to Dave’s room,” he said. “Let’s get you ready for a cast. Let me help you with the robe first.” He gently untied the drawstring and removed my robe. Next, he removed my gown and bra. I was standing there in just my panties feeling terribly vulnerable as he removed the bandages from my arm stumps. “Stand over here for some pictures.”

“What kind of pervert are you?” I snapped as I raced over to the door. I couldn’t open the door, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t grip the doorknob. I felt like a trapped animal. Out of fear and frustration, I started to cry. I was almost totally nude and locked in a room with madman with no way to defend myself. As I tried unsuccessfully to open the door, he put one hand on a breast and his other hand slipped under the waistband of my panties into my crotch. What had I gotten myself into? I was terrorized and confused at the same time. I wanted to scream, but nothing would come out. “Please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded and sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He kissed the back of my neck and said softly, “I know how you can get all the arms that you want for free.”

He hadn’t attacked me, and I relaxed a little. “What do you mean?” I replied.

“I’m willing to trade sex for arms,” he said. “All you need to do is sleep with me on a regular basis.”

“Why would you want to sleep with me? I’m so deformed. Hell, I don’t even have any arms.”

“That’s one of the things that attracts me to you. All of my life I have always dreamed of making love to a beautiful DAE. You are the only one ever to come along. I’m what is known as devotee. I like women amputees a lot. I just happened to pick the right profession where I get to fondle women’s stumps. Most don’t turn me on that much, but you sure do,” he said as he gently kneaded my stumps.

Surprisingly the light massaging of my little arm stumps had a calming effect. I began to relax and become sexually aroused at the same time. “That sure feels good,” I purred. I turned around and put my little arm stumps around his neck the best I could and followed with a passionate kiss. “Please massage my stumps more,” I begged. “Wow, I’ve never been turned on like this before.” My crotch was dripping wet and my nipples were hard. He gently led me into an exam room and removed my panties. I stood there totally nude as he removed his clothes. I dropped to my knees and fondled his erection with my arm stump before I put it in my mouth. He gently helped me to my feet. “Please fuck me now,” I said. “I want you so badly I can hardly stand it.” He had me lie down on the examining table with my legs dangling over the end. He put his head between my legs and began to massage my clitoris with his tongue. I had an orgasm almost immediately. It was so powerful that he had to hold me to keep me from falling off the table. While I caught my breath, he put on a condom and was soon on top of me. The penetration was so deep and felt so good that soon we both climaxed. When we were finished, he gently removed our excess love juices with a warm washcloth. He got dressed and left me totally nude and a bit embarrassed. Without arms, I couldn’t cover myself.

He led me back into the room and had me stand for pictures. “Isn’t this the spot where I become hysterical?” I joked.

“These pictures are for my files. They’re confidential medical records,” he said. “I always take before-and-after pictures.” He took several pictures, then had me sit on a tall stool. He encased my entire upper body in a plaster cast. While we were waiting for the plaster to set, we talked about his attraction to amputees. At first I was repulsed at the idea, but the more he talked, the more comfortable I became. He carefully removed the cast, cleaned me up, and redressed me.

“How long will it take you to make my new arms?” I asked.

“Normally, two to three weeks,” he said as he saw the dejected look on my face. “But for you my special lady, how about tomorrow afternoon? I’ll need to work late, but I’ll do it for you.”

I was overjoyed and kissed him passionately. He held me close and returned the kiss. “Do you make house calls?”

“That can be arranged,” he said as he opened the door and we started up the corridor. Dave escorted me back to my room and took my robe. “I’ll see you tomorrow for a fitting. I’m inspired,” he said with a smile and a quick kiss.

Beth came into my room. “The word on the street is that Dr. Jones is about ready to spring you,” she said with a big smile.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“He said the way you’re progressing that you’ll probably be out of here the day after tomorrow,” she said excitedly.

“I can hardly wait. And I think that my new arms will be ready tomorrow.”

“Great. Things look like they’re coming together finally. I’ve got most of my stuff moved into your other bedroom,” she said.

Beth left, and I turned on the TV for a while and watched reruns. The rest of the day dragged. I finally fell asleep about midnight.

The morning sun was shining into my room. Beth was lightly shaking me. “Your breakfast is here.” I sat up, and she started to feed me breakfast.

“Let me show you the trick I’ve been working on.” I positioned myself back away from the bed table and reached around with my foot and, after several tries, was able to pick up the spoon with my toes. I carefully maneuvered the spoon into the bowl of oatmeal. I was able to fill the spoon and, by using my other leg as leverage, bring the spoon up to my mouth. I put the spoon back on the bed table. I was exhausted.

“Way to go,” Beth said. “I know how difficult it must be for you. Every little thing that we take for granted is a major struggle for you. I’m very proud of you,” she said as she fed me breakfast. After breakfast, she gave me a bath and then did my hair and makeup. The floor nurse came in and removed the bandages for the last time. It felt good to have my little arm stumps exposed to the air.

It was late afternoon when Dave came into the room. “Are you ready for a fitting?” I nodded my head yes. “Let’s go down to the workshop. All my tools are there, and we can be alone,” he said with a wink. We walked down the corridor and got into the elevator. We took the elevator to the basement and walked down the corridor. I waited as he unlocked the door. We went in, and he locked the door behind us. As he turned to me, I met him with a kiss. His returning kiss was full of passion. “I need to undress you again,” he said with a sly grin. I returned the grin. Soon I was standing nude in front of him again. He immediately began to lightly massage my stumps. That felt so good, that I was instantly aroused. My crotch was dripping wet. He was driving me wild. I got down on my knees and managed to unzip his fly with my teeth. I soon had his penis in my mouth. He helped me to my feet and walked with me to the examining room and laid me on the table. He was on me in an instant. It was just what the doctor ordered. I wanted to scream when I climaxed. Soon he too climaxed. He got a washcloth and cleaned up our love juices.

We went into his workshop. My new arms were lying on the bench. He helped me put a sock, which he called a stump sock, over each arm stub. He picked up the harness, which had both arms already attached. He had me raise my arms as he slid my shiny new arms down over my little arm stubs. He tightened the only strap. It runs around my lower rib cage and buckles in front. The fit was perfect. He showed me how to raise and lower the elbows and then how to open and close the shiny stainless steel hooks. They looked really cool. He did a few more adjustments and then challenged me to put my panties back on. After a great deal of difficulty, I managed to do it. “You’ll get a lot better with practice,” he said as he gave me a kiss. “Let’s get you dressed and show you off to the world.” He helped me put on my gown and robe. He received another kiss as he tied the drawstring. “I should probably make a house call in two days,” he said as he unlocked the door and we went out into the corridor and back up to my floor.

The nurses all cheered as I came walking down the hall wearing my shiny new arms and hooks. Beth met me in the hall and gave me a hug and a high sign. Beth and I went into my room. I practiced using my new arms well into the night. Beth had stayed well beyond her quitting time. Just before she left, she helped me remove my shiny new arms and carefully set them on the chair in the corner. She removed my stump socks and placed them on the arms. Finally, she removed my bra and helped me get into bed.

Beth was there early the next morning. It was her day off. She brought the clothes that I had asked for. She gave me my bath and helped me with my bra and panties. Then she helped me put on my new arms. I was amazed how quickly I had taken to using the hooks. I slipped both hooks through the sleeves of a clean hospital gown and managed to get it on most of the way.

I had just finished dressing when Dr. Jones walked in carrying my chart. He looked at me and smiled as he said: “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to kick you out of here. I’ve been going over your chart. Things appear normal, and there is no sign of infection. Let me see you use those shiny new hooks.” I reached over and picked up a spoon and placed it in a cup, then grasped the cup and passed it to him. “That’s great for a start, but I’m enrolling you in an outpatient class on how to get the most from those hooks and other terminal devices that you may want to try. Dave can help you with a selection.”

“Yes, he’s been very helpful. He’s promised to show me other options,” I said with a smile.

“Before I go, remember those hooks can be a turn-on to a lot of guys out there. Just be careful.”

“I will. And Dr. Jones, thanks for everything,” I said as I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He left, and Beth came back. She helped me put on my tight blue jeans and my new frilly white blouse with the three-quarter length sleeves. My black heels finished out the outfit. I looked really cool with my shiny new arms and hooks showing out from my blouse. Beth carried my things as we walked out to the nurses’ station. I said my goodbyes, and we walked to the elevator. We got out on the main floor and got signed out. Beth witnessed my ‘X,’ which I was able to put on the forms. We walked out the front door into the sunshine of a bright spring day. The fresh air smelled so good that we decided to walk home.

On the way, we decided to stop for a quick beer at the bar where I had been the entertainment the day before the accident. The owner was there and came over and bought us a round. He said: “You know, you put on quite a show when you were in here last time. We all heard about the accident. I need another stripper, and I pay top dollar. If you want a job, it’s yours anytime. You know, with a great body like yours and those shiny hooks, you can really turn on a lot of guys.”

“I enjoyed doing it,” I said. “I’ll be back when I get a little more accustomed to these new hooks.”

It was great to be back home again. Beth had settled into her own room, and I had plenty of room in mine now that John was gone.

The outpatient school went by really quickly. The teacher was an SAE and could relate to the problems of operating the elbow as well as the hooks. I became very proficient with my hooks and now can do most things, even wipe my own butt.

Beth and I have become really good friends. We have found that we have the ability to help each other with our desires. We were out drinking one night and even got into a wet tee shirt contest.

Dave stops by on a regular basis. I now have arms for all occasions, but I still like my old # 5 hooks the best. He designed a new harness that I can take off and put on more easily by myself and liners that adapt to my stump size as they change. He has also become a very close friend and now is the only person that I sleep with.

I went back to the bar. My new job starts tonight.

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Beth asked as she helped me dress in my multilayered costume.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it a lot,” I said. “I’m sure that this is what I want to do.”

There was a drum roll as the lights came up. The applause was deafening as I stepped out onto the stage . . .

E N D