The Lion, The Athlete, The Nullo

I was about 6 years old or so when my parents took me to see the animals at the zoo. Bright eyed and eager to see them up close and in person, I ran ahead of my parents, jumping eagerly at each new area of the zoo. One section I was amazed at, and kept going back was the Lion area. The enclosure looked like a good stretch of the African desert lands, with rocky faces, and tall tall grassy areas for them to lay. My parents always knew to come back to that area and get me when they saw I was gone. Something about that large, golden cat seemed to beckon me back to him. His eyes, mixed with bronze and gold, large as dollars staring straight into the soul, and listening to all your fears, worries, thoughts and dreams. I wanted to pet him.

This was back in the day, when stupid kids like me were warned not to get too close to the caged area doors. I was too young to know better, and even younger to care about my actions and consequences. I moved closer to the cage, and instinctively, so did he. At no time, did our eyes ever move from eachother. I stopped as close to the bars as I could possibly go. He stopped less than 2 feet from the bars, and stayed staring at me. I reached out my hand, and placed it on the bar, and felt this rush going thru my young body like nothing I (at the time) had ever felt before. I saw him move in twards my hand, and with his coarse, sand-papery tounge, licked my hand free of the bars. I gasped.

I heard his purr, loud, like like a hefty V8 engine at idle, and deeper than a canyon's deepest crevace. His breath was hot, but not stifling. It was warm, and comforting, and not threatening in any way. As we stared at eachother, the mere presence of the alpha male made the other lions in the area come closer. I didnt even notice untill one of the other males lurch tward my hand. I really didnt know what happened, it was so loud and fast. I heard one lion roar, and in a flash of fur, I was lurched foward, twards the bars. I stumbled back, away from the bars, and saw my friend fighting with the other lion. The noise was loud, and made people look our way, then I heard screaming. I tried to cover my ears, but only one ear could be covered.

I was missing my hand.

I kinda looked at my almost bleeding stump of a left hand with stupid facination, as things started to play in slow motion. I remember seeing the two fighting, and lots of blood everywhere, but stunningly, I never felt what had happened to me untill someone grabbed me from behind, and rushed me over his shoulders away from the cage. It was then, when one of the bystanders applied a torn off t-shirt to my stump did I start to feel the pain. It was almost like being reborn again, I was aflood with all these strange new sensations of pain, calm, fear, and confusion. I started to panic alittle, and tried to get away, not realizing these people were here to help me out, and not to harm me. After all, I never felt the pain untill after that one guy placed pressure on my wrist.

Well, I was rushed to the hospital soon afterwards, and immediately, I was rushed around again. New faces, new places, and strange, scarry looking machines at the time I didnt know what they did. One of the last things I remembered before I was put under was me staring at what I know knew was wrong with me. I woke up hours later, with my parents over me, crying. I could make out some words, but not many. Ones I did hear eluded to me not able to have the hand reattatched. It was too complex, and at the time, no one in the country was even brave enough to try it, especially on a 6 yr. old. I stayed in the hospital for about 2 weeks, since the doctors were concerned about infections, and complications from the accident. I remember the first day I was able to see my wounded hand, and was amazed to see nothing past my wrist. The lion took everything past my wrist clean off my hand. I remember soon after that fateful day, my family never took me to the zoo again.

So, I fast foward to 12 years later. Growing up with one hand was ugly. Kids liked to pick on me, and point out to me I was one handed. I became really self concious. Because I didnt have a left hand, I was excluded from just about everything except Swim team, and Track. I was alright as an athlete, but I felt I was the odd man out, and couldnt try anything that involved both hands. I was a pretty mean b-ball player, but I couldnt take the names, and put-downs that it came with, so I stopped trying for sports. Things got really ugly when my parents started to divorce my senior year. I was torn between homes, and the fights over my best interests really zonked me out of doing much of anything those last few months of school. I did finish school, however, and was determined to make a fresh new start again. After all, everything changes in College, or at least, thats what Ive been told.

It was also around this time in my life that I started to get the urges for sex, and the confusing feelings twards other guys and the girls in school. I saw the girls in school, and thought to myself I had a decent chance, but self doubt, and a low self esteem really dragged me down. With the guys, it was alittle different. When I would participate in the few things I could do with one hand, I was fixated with other guys in Gym class that had finely toned muscular arms, and their veiny, strong hands. Hands. That was something I lacked, a twin to my surviving apendage. I was so mesmerized by some of my friends hands, I was almost at the point of having it considered a fetish. I was starting to come to like the make figure, and slowly swayed away from women, to the more muscular men, and in a sense, more whole. I joined the university that summer, and met Scott. He was an athletic type, a runner, and had a great frame for it.

We talked many times durring practice, getting to know eachother better. The oddest part about our friendship, it never manifested itself outside the realm of the Gym. I would often bump into him in across campus, and say 'hi' to him, and he barely look at me and aknowledge me, but in Gym, he was like my best friend. One day, after practice, he and I were running laps around the stadium when he tripped, and fell pretty badly. He fell face first into the asphalt, and broke his nose. I helped him back to the lockers, since the running staff and on scene nurses were already gone for the afternoon, and got his car keys from his locker, and started to take him to his car. I figured I should drive him since he was in no shape to see the road. He told me where he lived, and I drove out of the parking lot, and into another world where I knew neither of us would be the same.

I pulled into the drive, and helped him into the house. His dad was out of town, one of the many perils of being an over the road trucker. Since his mother didnt live with them anymore, Scott pretty much had the place all to himself for a week. I helped him get seated, and asked where his first aid kit was. He had said never mind to that, and asked if I could help him get out of his running shirt, since he didnt want to let go pressure to his bloody nose. I lifted one side of his shirt, and had to rub my stump over his chest on the other side to get off his shirt from the left. That must have done something to him, since I saw his dick erupt from his skimpy running shorts, and nearly pop me in the knee. He looked with a bit of shock-horror in his eyes at me, where I at first didnt notice his 8 inch schlong trying to creep up his stomach by now. I saw it, and stood back, only making my own 8 inch boner tent out my shorts.

He looked at me for a second, and then grabbed me by my left wrist, and started to lick, and suck on my stump like mad. I was alittle confused at this time, thinking that this was some fucked-up weird shit he was into. Then, he got up, and started to lick all of my arm up to my shoulders, stopping at my neck to bite me lightly, and planted the biggest fucking kiss I had ever had. We stood kissing for about 5 minutes untill he stepped back, to judge my reaction. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me with this cheshire cat smile I had never seen on him before. I was turned on by him, I was. I made the next move by dropping to my knees, and licked his shorts covering his crotch, and his swelling balls. I traced the outlines of his nuts 2 or 3 times untill I helped him out of his runners. For the first glorious time, I saw Scott's manhood in all its cut beauty.

I played around with his balls, rolling them firmly in my hand, while I stuck my left stub up to his face, where he gladly started sucking on it like a lolli pop. I grabbed his balls, and with a nice tug, forced his nuts down hard in the sac. He responded with gobs of clear precum, and an increase in the force of his sucking on my stub. With me pulling down, his cock came straight to my face, and in an instant, I started to lick the entire cicumfrence of his mushroomed head. I heard him moan like he was in absolute heaven. He was, and so was I. I took him down, my first official time. I got half way before I started to choke on the girth of his mighty tool. Past my molars, it was a tight fit, and at the time, I didnt know how to handle it, but slowly figured it out as I went down on him. Before I knew it, he was blowing wad after wad of his healthy man milk down my throat. At first it tasted funny, but I liked the taste, and wanted more. I kept sucking untill his balls were dry, and popped him out of my mouth.

I got up, and he wiped a bit of his cum off my mouth, and had me lick it off his finger. He told me his obsession to see my stump, to feel it, and to play with it. He was fixated with the idea of having nothing where something should be. He looked at me, and looked down, to my ignored 8 inches, and prompty started stroking it. He knelt this time infront of me, and started to slowly pump my meat harder. Something I was never accustomed to was having a second set of fingers running the length of my dick, and with his other hand, thats exactly what he was doing. He started to stroke me with his left, and massage my balls with his right, all the while, letting my dickhead meet his tongue after every stroke. I was fucking on cloud nine, with the idea of another hand, another TWO hands touching my dick.

He stopped short of relieving me, and asked if I could fuck his ass. I looked quizzically at him, and he told me he wanted to have an amputee fuck his ass. I kinda chuckled to myself, and accepted. I used some of his own precum from his still dripping dick to lube my dick, and slowly entered his hole. I heard him scream bloody murder as my 8 inches started to open his shute to new dimensions. He was verry vocal at this point, screaming out his agony from the pain, and his sexual frustrations being let loose, and comming free. He was truly an animal in his own mind, enjoying the fucking of his wildest dreams. I started to get used to his ass, and started to thrust in and out. I tell you , between his tight ass, my balls banging his balls hard, and him cussing and screaming in delight, it sent me over the edge.

My dick shot wad after wad inside his strong, sweaty, muscular ass, and with every spasm of my dick, his sphincter got tighter around my dick. He looked up at me, and had the biggest grin on his face, covered in sweat. He panted a bit, smiled and said it was great. I said it was too, and before he had a chance to get up, I pulled my dick out of his semi stretched hole, and as quickly as I could, replaced it with my stump. His eyes widened at the feelings of being torn apart, and when he saw it wasnt my dick again, it was my stump, his dick started to shoot all by itself a second time. I started to pump in and out of his near tourtured ass like mad, and saw the look of esctasy looking back into his face.

Having his dick cum after it erupted all by itself made him scream out of the top of his lungs, forcing clear white goo out his now well spent balls. I completely milked him dry, to the point where I was just forcing prostate juice out. He collapsed in a heavy-breathing quiver, with his arm outstretched over his head out of exhaustion. I fell beside him on the sofa, where he rolled to meet in a warm embrace. We kissed, and I held him well into the night, and into the morning. We got up at the same time, and we litterally had to pry ourselves off eachother, our mixture of cum and sweat dried, and litterally glued us together. We seperated, and smiled at one another again. We didnt bother to get dressed again, we went and sat down to eat.

We talked up a storm, not thinking we were missing school, or early morning practice. He confessed he was gay, and he was attracted to me, and my stump. He told me that it was one of his deepest fantasies to become an amputee, cause he liked the idea of missing some odd body part forever. I looked at him angrily at this point, wondering if he really knew the pain that went along with it, and not just the physical pain, but the mental anguish to be ostrasized because of your looks. I laid it all down on him hard that morning, telling him he was insane for thinking that, and made it utterly clear to him he was abso-fucking-lutely lucky to be whole and complete, and not have people question his abilities. I guess I really freaked him out, and he started to ignore me the rest of the time I was there, untill I got dressed in what I was wearing from the day before, and left walking.

I didnt see him around campus that afternoon, and thought I really might have said something that caused him deep pain. I thought about it, and decided to go see him at his house. I saw his car in the driveway in the same place I parked it yesterday, so I knocked, and the door opened from not being shut properly. I walked in calling his name, to no avail. I had started to walk back out the door when I heard a loud thud from one of the rooms, and decided to check it out. I opened the door to the gleaming white painted bedroom, to find specks of blood spattered on the floors, and wall. I turned the corner into the shared bathroom, and saw Scott slumped on the floor, with his crotch bloody, and what seemed to he his mangled man meat clutched in his rapidly fading fist. He needed help fast.

The ambulance came almost instantly, and took him to County General, where they worked thru the night to save his life. It was about 11 hours later when the doctors came out, and talked to me. I asked what happened, and they told me they werent able to save his gonads. His amputated organs were depleted of blood for too long, and were long dead to try and be saved. I looked almost puzzled at the doctor, and asked how much of his manhood was cut away. In all that happened, I never took a good look. Basically, he cut everything off in one swipe, it looked like. The doctor asked me some questions, and one took me by surprise. He asked if he was feeling depressed lately. I told him yes, and he thought that was a feasable explination for his actions.

I knew better.

I went back to the dorm late that evening and tried to sleep. I couldnt, thinking that I was responsible for him mutilating his body like that. When I was able to go to sleep, I had a terrible nightmare, of him cutting off all his limbs, minus the arm he used to do the deeds, and cutting off his manhood. I woke up in a screaming fit, and couldnt go back to bed. I drove back to the hospital at 3am, and stayed by his bedside the rest of the night, my hand, holding his, covered with the IV's and heart monitors. I was woken rather rudely by the attending nurse that was doing his rounds, and making sure the patients didnt take out any IV lines or try to get up prematurely. He walked in, mini flashlight in hand, and checked on Scott, made some notations, and did a double take after reading what trauma he did, and walked out, with a slight stiffie forming at the front of his scrubs.

I got up and went for some coffee. As I came back in, Scott was comming to. The sedatives and morphine were still heavy on his body, and he was alittle incoherent. I stood next to him, and held his hand, to which he started to cry. He mumbled about something I said, and he was going to show me for screwing up his deepest desires. He then opened his eyes and saw me. He looked into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, utill he opened his mouth and whispered "Im sorry." I sat beside him and was there for him that entire morning. He asked what I was doing there, and I told him that I was simply the one that saved his life. I used my stump to wipe both a tear, and his hair away from his face, and he just lay back down on the pillow.

After the hospital pychologist came by and counceled Scott, he was discharged, and let into my custody. Scott managed to pay for the hospital bill with a credit card, and walked right out the door, limping with every step. The ride home was quiet. Too quiet. I helped him inside, and we sat to talk. He went straight to his bed, and laid down. I asked him straight out why he did it. He simply responded that he wanted to become that which he always wanted to be. I told him he could have at least chopped off a finger, to test the waters, or something small, at least. I told him that he pretty much nearly got killed trying something drastic. Scott listened to what I said, but it didnt look like it sank in with him. I attributed it with the morphines and pills from the hospital. He dozed off, and I thought it be best if I did too.

I went back to the dorm, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was woken up about an hour later after feeling someone sitting at the edge of the bed. I jerked out of bed to see a naked, but still bandaged Scott sitting at the foot of the bed, with one hand covering his heavily bandaged crotch, and the other hand outstretched to my stump. He took hold of my stump, and without a word, placed it on his bandage, and kept it there. He looked up, with a glistening tear in his eye, and smiled. I opened the bedsheets back up, and he climbed in bed with me, and fell asleep, holding eachother tight. We never dated anyone else after that, knowing we could understand eachother, and what happened to us like no one else could