The next week was a whirlwind. Life was pretty mundane: paying bills, shopping for groceries, riding the subway to get to and back from work, but with one glaring exception being the asymmetrical body I now processed. I was obsessed, much more so than I ever thought I might be. I got lost during meetings at work and caught a few stares from co-workers as my mind wandered and I would realize I had been poking and prodding at my empty shoulder for the past five minutes or so.

Work was the biggest hurdle because I never really had any reason to tell my boss or other coworkers what I was planning to do. My family knew of course--I knew I would have to see them at least every so often for some portion of the rest of my life. But work--who cares what decisions I make? I am on a computer all day every day anyway...no one would notice the slight slowdown in typing speed that would be my only hindrance to my work. In fact, after about a week I was a bit surprised at just how fast I could type with only one hand! Little things like that, and the little challenges that would spring up once in a while kept me intrigued.

A co-worker of mine, Mindy, surprised me one morning. She snuck up behind me, "Hi!"

I jumped and fumbled a bit, reaching for my arm rests with both arms, almost falling out of my chair.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to startle you!"

"Oh no--its okay, I was just..." I was searching for a reason to explain away why I hadn't actually started working that day in favor of playing with the new sensations in my right shoulder.

"I wanted to ask you something and I hope it's not too forward! First, I just wanted to say it was such a surprise seeing you show up as the new you!"

I blushed bright red. Is "the new me" a good thing? Mindi was about twenty years older than me and I sometimes heard her say things I wouldn't expect people my age to say. Let's just say Mindi's filter needed a tune-up.

"Oh?" I quizzically replied.

"Im just curious....how does it feel?" Mindi gestured at her right shoulder, obviously morbidly curious about my missing arm.

I wasn't sure what to reply with really. The feelings my new empty shoulder gave me were a complete surprise over the past few days. My inner-ear still hasn't quite caught up with my asymmetry and a quick touchup in the mirror ends up taking about fifteen minutes as I pose and soak in the new imagery that my brain seems to be having a field day just trying to get used to. In fact, I have been loving how even though I knew I needed this and the only cure to my BID was to remove my right arm, I still couldn't quite wrap my mind around the fact that it was now my reality. I secretly loved the awkwardness of being one armed but I wasn't sure if anyone else would quite relate.

"It's...its a...real trip." Im so awkward in many more ways than just one. Damn maybe that's my fetish, I laughed to myself.

"Oh well I imagine it must be! So tell me, how's sleeping on your side? It's always so uncomfortable with my arm stuck under me all night."

It was magical. "Oh...um, actually I haven't tried that out yet, hehe..." I blushed again.

"Hmmm," Cindi smirked. "I bet your boyfriend probably really likes it? Do you guys have fun in bed?

Ok first of all, fuck off Cindi, but second, no thanks! The only person with the privilege of touching my empty shoulder is Jim at the tattoo studio, and my future wife. "Haha, well, I'm not really committed at the moment."

Cindi looked completely confused. I don't have a partner with whom to play slutty bondage games with my disarticulation and I haven't even slept on my side yet. She couldn't seem to process that I simply got the job done for myself. And that was totally true. But lately I have been wondering what it would be like playing around with someone special as I am now.

"Well it looks like you have a lot in your future Megan! Im glad you did what you...felt you needed to do!" I blushed and nodded my head as Cindi walked off. Fuck I need to come up with a boilerplate conversation about my arm before something like that happens again. What would even happen if I told people how obsessed I am?

I thought about Riley off and on over the days following my amputation. A couple times I ended up imagining myself missing more. Sometimes it was my other arm, sometimes just a foot or much more mundane like a piercing or tattoo. One thing was for certain however: I was curious, and I was terrified. I had the same feeling a year ago when I first began to imagine amputation. My therapist told me these feeling would be gone if I figured out what I needed gone and took care of it! Fuck. I decided to push the new feelings deep down--at least until I can settle down in my new life. I haven't even picked up my new prosthesis yet!

The following week I got a notification my new arm was complete. Technology has really advanced over the past couple decades, one of the main reason why voluntary amputation have become more and more accepted. Hooks and myo-electric limbs gave way to bio-identical robotic limb replacements. The tiny yet powerful computers within the arm learn to read the remaining nerve endings at the amputation site and interpret the signals as movement. In reverse, it can easily relay sensory information as complex as temperature and texture. The brain hardly has to do any rewiring and after about a day of training patients walk our of the clinic using their new high-tech appendage like it was their own.

I arrived at the clinic and wouldn't you know it, Riley was in the same waiting room. It was a replay of the tattoo studio! "Megan!" I blushed hard. She was wearing a flowy pleated skirt that pooled at her hips. I could hardly make out that she had stumps at all. On the floor was a board and two blocks with handles. It seems she gets around by walking with her arms--the tools just protect against wear and tear on her delicate hands and rear. I began to thing about her legless bottom and as always made things awkward by waiting too long to respond, "Oh, uh, Riley! Hi! Funny seeing you here!"

"Well it is a prosthetic clinic after all! We gotta get around somehow, right?" She had the prettiest smile.

"Well, that's true I guess...that's why Im here too!" Why would Riley get both of her legs removed progressively, almost completely, just to get prosthetics to act like she never lost anything? I was confused but a voice in the back of my head said that perhaps if I am patient, Ill learn more about Riley. I really wanted to--I think I had a crush on her.

"So youre getting new legs?" I asked.

"Well, sort of. I do have legs, but theyre not the robot super duper solutions you might expect. Im a little different than most people if you haven't noticed" Riley laughed, but this was the first time Ive seen her visibly nervous. Why was she here? Shes not getting robot legs?

"You're not getting robot legs?" I wasn't sure whether I meant to blurt it out but there it was.

"Haha...not exactly. I never felt comfortable in my original body. When I had a foot removed...wow, it feels like decades ago now! When I had my first amputation I got prosthetic replacements but they just felt as cumbersome and awkward as my original set! Most of the time I choose to go without. Until we met, I used crutches and no prosthetics."

"Oh," I replied, just as visibly confused as Cindy from work. "umm, Im confused...Im so sorry!"

"No don't be! Wow, you are so cute when you're nervous. See, I don't wear prosthetics, but I do get fitted for them. I dont wear them daily but I do have appendages I wear...for fun...if that makes sense."

I decided to trust the voice in the back of my head. It seemed to be in cahoots with Riley and it told me to just shut up and listen, "It...it doesnt. But Id love to see what you mean." I stammered.

"Well Id love to show you, Megan." Riley smiled and kept eye contact. I blushed.

"Riley?" The nurse called out into the waiting room.

"Yeah that's me! Here," Megan got out a piece of paper and wrote on it. "Come here Saturday night. Me and a few friends like to get together and...chill, you know!" She hopped down from her waiting room chair using her arms, directly onto the board below her. She hooked the small ropes around her shoulders and grabbed the wooden blacks sitting beside her. Pushing up, she lifted the board by the string and arm-walked her way into the clinic.

I was mesmerized by Riley, but at the same time wondered why she didn't simply have a wheelchair. Riley was the most intriguing person I had ever met--I was in for a serious awakening.