"Dammit“, I curse. I’ve got four minutes to finish getting ready, leave the house, and catch the bus. There’s no way I can make it. That fucking earring. I take a deep and shaky breath and try again. I pick up the earring with my right hand and carefully position the pointy bit over the ear hole. I push down, but the earring only pushes against my earlobe. If only there was a way to add counterpressure, to get more precision into my futile attempts at putting on this fucking earring. I try using my left arm, which ends in a round stump closer to my elbow than my wrist. The motion is not one I normally do and it feels a bit weird. My inflexible upper arm is too long and I can’t use my stump to help. Instead, I have to push my upper arm against my ear. It feels strange and looks clumsy, but I finally manage to get that bloody earring in place. I can’t help but smirk broadly, but only for a second, until I remember just how desperately I need to leave. I rush to my room, passing Jessi’s closed bedroom door. Jessi has gone home for Spring Break, leaving me with the entire apartment to myself. Once I arrive in my room, I look into the mirror, marvelling at my naked shape in the mirror. I do look nice. I try to keep in shape. Nothing major, just some home workout to stay fit. I like the way I look and I want to keep it that way.

My left arm dangles by my side uselessly, the hand and about two thirds if my lower arm missing. It’s been a little over four months since Jessi and I had parts of our arms removed by Allie and Sanya. While I enjoy the look, I still have trouble adapting to life with one hand. It’s immensely frustrating and the fact that the Atomizer, the device we used to remove our limbs temporarily, still wasn’t mainstream knowledge made things worse. As did the fact that I told Allie to add a faint scar to make it look like my arm had been surgically amputated (which I guess was true, in a way). People stare, a lot and they ask questions. How the fuck do you explain to people that you did this to yourself for a year and then expect them to still be understanding? Instead, I usually come up with some story of an accident or simply gloss over the questions. So in addition to getting frustrated with my missing hand and trying to adapt, I have people stare at me when I do get frustrated with that weird pitying expression once they noticed my arm stump. It simply draws a lot of attention and I have had days when I wished I still had both my hands. That emotion usually passes eventually when I remind myself that I’ll get my hand back in eight months.

There are other days when I really enjoy missing my hand. I enjoy the feel. By now, much of the musculature has vanished, leaving the stump soft and squishy with a bone in the middle. It honestly feels wonderful, though I still haven’t quite gotten used to the sensation of touching the stump. Put your hand on your arm, just below the elbow. That’s the place I still feel as the lowest termination of that arm. Anything below is just not there. I can still feel it occasionally. I don’t get phantom pain, thankfully, the Atomizer took care of that, but in every other way this is an amputation, albeit a temporary one. I do have phantom sensation. I can feel what I am missing occasionally, especially my fingers, making it even more shocking and frustrating when I forget my predicament. I still regularly try to grab something, only to find that while I can feel my fingers closing, I don’t actually have fingers to grab something. From what I’ve read, it’s a side effect of the type of scar I had Allie add. Since I told Allie to make it look like a surgical amputation instead of no scar or a deformity as if I’d been born with my left hand missing, the nerves were actually arranged in the same way an amputation would have. Hence the phantom sensations and my struggle to adapt.

And yet, I normally enjoy the challenge and sensation, especially when I am alone. I give myself a second look in the mirror. Yeah, I’m proud of my body. I am athletic but not ripped. “Fit” is probably the best way to describe me. My stump is warm and squishy and I bring it up to my c-cup breasts, which are round, perky, but now yet big enough to cause me pain. I look clumsy with my arm pressed to my side, but I manage to use the warm, soft and squishy appendage to push up my breast. Breast - “Shit”, I exclaim, turn around and jump towards my closet. My little intermission in front of the mirror can’t have lasted longer than ten seconds, but when you are in as much of a hurry as I am, every second counts. I pull my new bikini out of the drawer and quickly slip into the pants. Then I hastily wrap the top around my back and get to closing the clasp.

“Aaargh”, I exclaim in a desperate attempt to vent some frustration. There, finally. I quickly turn it around and clumsily slip it up. How the fuck did Allie and Sanya manage to go limbless for a month or even longer in Sanya’s case? I quickly put on some street wear over the bikini, throw change underwear and a bra into my bag, which I had thankfully prepared yesterday, and sprint to the exit. I grab my purse and my keys on the way out, use my little arm to pull the door shut and run downstairs. One minute, 300 metres. I can do that.

I sprint outside and head to the street. On the other side of the campus, I see Sanya in a wheelchair. She’s regained her second leg stump. Though very high, like the first one she’d sported four months ago when Jessi and I came by their apartment to get our arms removed, the second stump surely improves her sitting position and range of motion significantly. Sanya is still armless. She’s being pushed by one of her roommates. Allie is also there. She’s got a prosthetic leg for the one she’s missing at the hip. It seems to be a very new tool for her, as she’s clearly struggling to keep up with the wheelchair and her roommates. I would love to say hi, but simply can’t afford it right now. Instead, I wave my stump at them and continue on my way. “Shit, shit, shit”, I mumble to myself as I see the bus already at the station. I summon all my strength to gain even more speed. Just as I am 20 metres away, the doors close and the bus starts rolling again. I sprint and wave my stump at the bus, tears welling up in my eyes. If I still had my arm, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. All of a sudden, the bus slows again. I can’t believe it. The driver must’ve seen me and decided to be nice. The bus screeches to a halt and the doors open. I hurry inside and collect myself. I give the bus driver a warm smile and mutter “thanks” before I make my way to the back. I actually made it. Holy fuck! Should be smooth sailing from now on. I’ll change to a suburban train, which will take me to the lake, where I will enjoy a nice day alone in the sun. I even brought a book, so I can tune out the stares if it gets too much. This will be my day.

“Excuse me?” The voice comes from behind me. I turn around and find a friendly face, presumably belonging to the voice.

“Yes?” I respond.

“Could you hand me the bottle of ketchup?”

I realise I’m blocking access to the condiments. I have just bought an ice cream and am now trying to open the wrapper. “Oh sure”, I say. I take the ice cream into my other hand, my left hand, and…oh damn. My face flushes with embarrassment as my ice cream tumbles to the ground, past my stump which I still hold stretched out. The guy looks rattled and unsure what to do.

“Shit, I’m so sorry”, he said. “I didn’t know…”

“No, it’s okay”, I mumble, trying to hide my embarrassment. It doesn’t help that he’s cute, even cuter with his wet hair. I quickly hand him the bottle of ketchup before picking up my ice cream, which I thankfully still haven’t gotten out of the wrapper. This is mortifying.

“Th..thanks”, he stammers.

“Anytime”, I mutter. I keep trying to open the ice cream while he squishes some ketchup on his fries. After a few more tries, I resort to using my teeth in an attempt to tear the wrapper open, but to no avail. I notice his eyes darting to my stump once or twice, but I see how he’s struggling to not stare and I decide to let it go. I still haven’t gotten the wrapper open, so I decide to make a bold move. “Could you, um, give me a hand? Literally?” I cringe at my dumb attempt at humour to relieve some of the awkwardness. I hold up my ice cream with my right hand.

His eyes light up. “Sure”, he says and extends a hand for me to put the ice cream in.

“Sorry about the spit”, I mumble, nodding at the wrapper I had just had in my mouth. “I…”

“No worries, no harm done”, he interrupts. “Here you go.” He hands me back my ice cream without the wrapper, which he disposes of in the next bin.

“Thank you”, I say. ‘Should I make another move?’ I ask myself. “I’m Dora, nice to m…” I interrupt myself again as my now unprotected ice cream tumbles to the ground yet again. I have already forgotten about the missing hand again and when I tried to hold the ice cream in my left hand so that I offer my right hand for him to shake, well… you get the picture.

My face flushes yet again and I feel the embarrassment hit me like a brick. “I…”, I begin to say, but I feel a lump in my throat as I avert my eyes so that he doesn’t see the tears welling up.

He looks dumbfounded and unsure what of to do for a second, before he suddenly springs into action and picks up the ice cream. He disposes of it in the bin and gently leads me behind the food cart, away from the curious gazes of the bystanders.

“I’m not sure how to react”, he says when we are out of sight. “If there’s anything I can do…” His voice trails off.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a second”, I say. My voice is still trembling, but it’s more the frustration than shock now. Here’s this cute guy, who seems to be my age and who is quick on his feet and all around a perfect gentleman, and I am such a trainwreck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’ve got to say something to him. “Thanks for reacting so quickly.” I smile at him shyly.

“No problem, Dora.” He looks me in the eyes. The deliberate use of my name makes me feel at ease for some reason.

‘So he didn’t hyperfixate on my arm’, I think to myself. ‘That’s a start.’

“I’m Eddie. Edgar, actually, but my friends call me Eddie”, he continues his introduction from earlier. “Nice to meet you too.” He smiles warmly.

“Hey Eddie”, I say. There’s a short pause, in which I glance at him. He can’t be much older than I am, probably 26 at most. I

“Sorry about your ice cream. I kinda feel at fault here, at least a little.”

“No, please don’t. I dropped it. It’s just one of those days, you know? I’ll get a new one in a second.” From the look on his face, I get the feeling that he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Can I make a different suggestion?” he asks. I look surprised. “Can I buy you an ice cream and we chat a little?” He looks anxious, almost embarrassed.

‘Wow’, I think to myself. ‘Is he serious? Despite…this?’ I glance down at my arm. I am stunned, but not annoyed. Ever since I had my arm removed, I’ve felt a little embarrassed by my arm. I know I wanted it, but I had severely underestimated how much attention it would draw. It made me an exception, an anomaly, and anomalies always draw attention. A little attention was nice, but I have always received a boatload of it, and never the nice kind. It was always stares and weird questions, but never anything else. It’s been months since I had any kind of interaction with strangers that lasted longer than a couple of quick sentences. How should I react to this? ‘Oh shit, I need to respond.’ I forced myself to make a decision. “Are you asking me out?” I ask and smirk to let him know he’s not out of line.

“I don’t know, maybe? I mean, I guess? You seem interesting and you definitely seem like you could use a chat.” He paused, then his eyes widened. “I don’t mean that I pity you or anything, just that you seem like you could use a chat and that I would like to get to know you some more. Is that…okay?”

“Sure!” I smile again. “You’re nice! Yes, you can buy me an ice cream.”

He looks relieved. “Okay, then. Cool!”

Ten minutes later we are sitting on my towel. Eddie is finally eating his fries and I have my ice cream, which Eddie kindly unpacked for me.

“So”, I ask, “what do you do, Eddie?”

“I work retail while I finish my master’s in business studies. I study at Dartmouth. I’m just here for spring break.”

“Dartmouth, damn! That’s a good school”, I say impressed.

“Yeah, but it’s a lot of work and most of my fellow students are horrible snobs.”

I giggle at that. “I can imagine!”

“Half of them are only there because their parents can afford to pay the tuition. They are dumb as rocks and have a gigantic ego. There are some exceptions, of course, but not that many.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. That must be such an interesting place.”

“It is, but sometimes I just don’t feel like I belong there. I don’t have the kind of money the others have, and I’m not as elitist as most of the school. It makes being there pretty weird at times.”

I nod empathetically.

“So, what do you do, Dora?” He asks.

“I’m currently completing my degree in political science at the university here”, I say. “Not as cool as Dartmouth, but…it’s fine.”

“Wow, that is so cool”, he exclaims. “What made you pick that?”

“I enjoy politics. Politics affect us all, every right we have, everything we do is connected to politics in some way. I find that fascinating, so I wanted to learn more about it, and here we are.”

“That is amazing”, he says again.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, definitely. I never felt like I was smart enough for politics, but…”

“…ended up at bloody Dartmouth?” I chuckle.

“Well, yeah…with something I’m good at.” He smiles shyly.

There’s a brief pause and I notice him glancing at my stump again, just briefly. He obviously doesn’t want to offend me, let alone stare.

How should I proceed? I kind of feel like I should tell him that this is only temporary, but how the hell do I do that? And is there even a slight chance that he doesn’t think I’m absolutely insane? Then again, he hasn’t rushed out of this situation yet, like most other people would have, so what have I got to lose? I look him in the eyes, smile slightly and then pop the question. “Wanna know what happened here?” I raise my stump so he can have a proper look at it.

“Well, kinda, but I didn’t want to overstep or stare. I hope I haven’t made you feel uneasy..”

“Don’t worry, you’ve been far better than most people I encounter. You’re good.”

He looks relieved at that.

“This is pretty new. It’s only been four months”, I say. “I guess that’s pretty obvious when you look at my performance earlier.”

“Maybe a little, yeah.”

“Promise you won’t freak out or judge me?” He nodded, unsure of what to expect next.

“I became like this voluntarily and it is temporary. I have about eight months of one-handedness left.”

“How is that even possible?” He asks. I notice with great relief that he seems more fascinated than repulsed.

“There’s this new tech that allows for temporary limb-reductions and -alterations. Two girls at my college got in trouble for really screwing each other over with this. I’m talking leg removed at the hip for three years, and all limbs removed for multiple years in revenge for that.” I pause and see that he’s listening intently.

“How long are we talking about for the limblessness?” Eddie asks incredulously.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I heard that it’ll take over 15 years for Sanya’s limbs to reappear completely, though I think it’ll be quicker for her legs than her arms. When I saw her this morning, she was still completely armless, but had two leg stumps, which is more than she had when I met her for the first time. She was just a torso then.”

“Geez!” I see that Eddie struggles to comprehend all that, so I give him some time to digest that info before moving on.

“My roommate Jessi and I were at the swimming pool when we first saw Allie and Sanya. Allie had her arms and remaining leg removed just before her elbows and knee. The other leg was the one that was – no is – missing at the hip for three years. The other limbs were for just a month, as “punishment” for what she had done to Sanya, which in turn was punishment for Sanya, who’d removed Allie’s leg without her consent. Honestly, that whole group is weird as fuck, but they mostly have fun with it, so what’s the harm?”

“I…I guess that’s true, but…just wow. I’ve never heard of this before.” He still struggles with the reality I’m presenting to him.

“So when Jessi and I saw Sanya and Allie at the swimming pool, we happened to be in line with them for the water slides. We knew what they had done to each other and asked what it was like. They both struggled to put it into words, but offered to let us try. Seeing as how Sanya and Allie are stuck with missing limbs for years, I figured that a year can’t hurt, so I had them remove my arm for a year. Jessi went above her elbow and had them do it for a year and a half”, I continue.

“And when the time is up? What happens then?”

“The limb simply comes back. No additional steps necessary.”

“That sounds pretty good”, Eddie says.

“Yeah, but I made a mistake. First of all, I asked Allie to put a time limit on the reduction.”

“Why is that a mistake?”

“Well, if you remove a limb without a limit, it stays like that until it is manually restored with a restoration device. That manual restoration isn’t possible for times reductions. However, that wasn’t my main mistake. While I sometimes struggle with my missing hand, I knew about that limitation. No, my main mistake was having Allie add the scar.” I raise my stump again and show it to Eddie, who is finally surrendering to his curiosity.

“Looks tidy, though”, he comments.

“It does, and I like how it looks. However, the device can simulate a number of conditions. If the arm is made to look like you were born like this, or the reduction is simply left without further treatment, the stump feels as if you were born like that, meaning no phantom pain and no phantom sensation. However, if the stump is altered to have an amputation scar, that is also what it will feel like. I don’t get phantom pain, thankfully, but I do get phantom sensation. The scar is real, so to speak, and nerve endings clash in there. The device prevents phantom pain, but not phantom sensation. I can feel my fingers and most of what I’m missing, so when I want to grab something, I feel my fingers moving, even though I do not have fingers…”

“…and that’s what happened with your ice cream earlier?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, exactly”, I nod. “Twice.”

“That must suck.”

“It does, yeah. I still haven’t wrapped my head around it and it’s been months now. It gets incredibly frustrating.”

“So would you say that being one-armed has been a positive experience, or do you believe it was a mistake to do this?”

“I think it has been interesting. It still is. I no longer have to wonder what getting your hand amputated feels like. I…I also like the aesthetic.” I blush. “It feels interesting, though it’s also confusing. See, my arm simply ends, and while I can still feel my hand, I can actually only feel my arm up until here.” I grab his left arm just below the elbow to show him. “Argh, this is confusing to explain.”

“I think you’re doing a great job. Thanks for opening up about this.”

“It isn’t easy”, I respond. “I also severely underestimated the way people treat you when you are disabled. People constantly stare and ask what happened or give me a pitying look when thinks don’t go my way and I get frustrated.”

“Ugh, I can imagine! Sorry again if I did that too..”

“No, actually you were a perfect gentleman.” I smile at him, and he returns it. “Wanna have a closer look?”

“Kinda, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all”, I say and put my stump into his open palm.

“Oh wow, it’s so warm and soft.” He seems surprised.

“Yeah, since I don’t have much to move on that side, the muscles are atrophied, leaving the stump super soft and squishy.”

“Is it weird if I say it feels nice?”

“Not at all, I feel the same way.” I grin.

We sit some longer and Eddie keeps holding my stump. It feels nice having someone else touch it. I especially like when he cups it. The sensation is hard to describe, but it just feels so…right.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Eddie asks after a while.

“Sounds lovely. There’s this cliff I wanted to jump off of. Care to join me?”

“Good idea, I’m in.”

We make our way to the water, get in and head towards the cliffs.

“Swimming feels weird”, I comment. “I mean, I’ve been doing that all day, and a few times before since losing my hand, but…I have so little resistance on my left side. It’s freaky.”

“I can imagine. A bit like limping in water, huh?”

I snort at that and laugh heartily and he grins.

Once we made our way to the cliffs, I begin climbing up. It’s not a steep climb and I can do it easily with one hand, though I need to use my stump for support occasionally. Eddie is behind me and seems alert, in case I slip, though I suspect he also enjoys seeing me use my abbreviated form.

Once we’re at the top, I deliberately position myself to the right of him and offer him my stump to grab.

“Do you want to jump now?” he asks.

“Sure, but before we do that, I think I would like to…kiss you?” I shoot him an anxious look.

“I thought you’d never ask”, he responds. I move him and grab his face with my hand and stump, and we dive into a deeply passionate kiss. I press my athletic figure against his body and smile as I can feel his erection as time seems to stop for a few heartbeats.

When we finally break, I look him in the eyes.

“Ready?” he asks quietly.

“Ready”, I whisper. I peck his cheek again, then offer him my stump, which he cups, and we jump.