Brad's Tale

 Brad's Tale

"High school is the pits," she said. "It's the living worst, no joke,"

I had finally introduced myself to the girl with the cute face I'd seen so
often sitting on the porch of the big stone house.

"Why?" "Oh, because nobody lets me do anything. Couldn't do this, can't do
that. Just sucks. I remember coming home one time in tears and trying to lock
myself in my room.

I looked at the face in front of me. Pretty. Really pretty. Tawny blond hair,
blue green eyes. Trouble is, the smile was missing.

I thought about all the times I had ridden past her house on my bike on my way
home from school. There was this cute face sitting there the porch. I couldn't
see much more than her face behind the high stone railing, but sometimes I'd
even wave. She never waved back, Though I was sure she smiled a couple of
times.

"You mean like activities? Clubs? That kind of thing?" She nodded. "It's not
like I expected to be head cheerleader or anything like that. I mean they
wouldn't even let me try out. I know they wanted girls with good figures and
I'm pretty lucky that way." "I'll say" She laughed. "So that wasn't it.  They
won't let me take any sports or anything. Not even swimming. Not like I
thought I'd get on the team, just wanted to put on my suit and get in the pool
with everyone else. "'No, dear, it would be too difficult for you,' they say.
Things like that. Mom just picks me up after school and that's that. I like to
sit out here on the porch though. I do homework. My grades are OK. It's just
all that other stuff."

She looked at me, rather shyly. "Once in a while this cute boy on a bike comes
by and waves. He never stops though. " We both laughed. "I guess I would have
stopped if you'd waved back or something." "Oh sure. Wave.  Can you even
imagine how the other kids stare at me in school when I want to answer a
question? I didn't want you to know... um, I didn't want to scare you away."
"Scare me away? Why would that scare me away?" "Oh, one or two boys have
stoped to say hello and when they got closer they just took off." "I really
wanted to meet you. Wish you'd done something." "I do too, now, but I was just
too self-conscious and I was really down on myself and school." "Did you
always go to Randolph School?" "No. I went to the special school over on Grant
until high school. Mom decided it was time for me to be in the real world.
Maybe that's why Randolph has been such a pain." "Can your mom help you with
the way things are going at school?" "She really tries, Brad, she really does.
She just lets me unwind and get it all out. She mostly listens, but when they
wouldn't let me try out for cheerleading she said something like, 'Maybe they
thought you'd have trouble with your chair on the grass'. Try to help me
understand. Gosh, I wasn't going to use my chair anyhow. I mean a cheeleader
in a wheelchair? I guess that would have been appropriate back at the special
school but not at Randolph. I had this plan where I'd just walk out and get in
line and do the cheers. My version anyhow."

She looked down.

"I can walk on my stubs," she said. "I usually don't but I can. I sort of limp
because the left one's hardly anything at all, but I don't really have to be
in the chair." She looked from her lap, what there was of it, back to me for a
reaction. "Did you ever have...um legs?" "Nope. Just came this way. They tried
fitting me with prosthetic legs, but they were so heavy and everything and my
little stubbies are so short that for sure I couldn't walk in them. I really
was stuck in the chair then. Besides, I really hated being all strapped up
like that." She wriggled in her seat, moving her little bits of legs. "It's a
lot better this way. And then Mom said that they probably knew I couldn't pick
up the pom poms or do the arm moves. Well, I could try couldn't I? I could
have put little cuffs in the pom poms to fit on my arms, maybe. The right one,
anyhow." Her right arm was just a couple of inches long, tapering to a rounded
point. At her left shoulder there was just a little soft lump. She waved her
right arm around. The lump twitched a little. "The whole thing was that I'm
never given a chance to even try. Not once. Just sit quietly in your chair,
Patricia. Don't make anyone look at you. If I'd had any kind of arms or legs
at all I'd have done something to those girls. Really. Those perfect Barbie
Doll girls." She looked down at the porch floor. "I'm sorry, Brad. You came up
here to say hello, and all I've done is bitch and whine." "That's OK, Patty. I
think it's interesting, what you've been saying." "Sure. Interesting. Um,
Brad?" "Yes?" "You know what my folks call me? My brother and Mom?" "What?"
"'Shorty'. 'Shorty!' Isn't that funny? I guess it's their way of dealing with
my disability. Hitting it head on. But I kind of like it. See at school I'm
Patty and...well, you can call me Shorty if you want." "OK, Shorty, it's a
deal. Uh...would you like to do something some time?" "Oh yes, there's a
hundred things I'd like to do some time," she laughed, "Like dance or ride a
bicycle or eat with chopsicks or .. I'm sorry, that was just too good a line
to pass up. Yes, Brad, whatever you think, that would be nice." She sat
quietly in her wheelchair, looking out at the cars passing by. She really had
a great body as far as it went. Really nice face, too. Neat girl. "I wonder if
I'll ever be able to drive," she said. "It would be nice if I could do that."
"They can do some cool things with cars now," I said. "Remote controls and
stuff. Maybe they can rig up something." "Maybe." "You know what? I think I
can get our old car Saturday. If you're not doing anything I could come over
and we could go for a drive." "If I'm not doing anything? What would I be
doing? Practicing gymnastics?" She loooked at me with a strange blank
expression. "That was supposed to be a joke, Brad. I guess it wasn't very
funny." "Pat..I mean Shorty, I just don't know what you can do and what you
can't. Or how busy you are. I just thought you might do something Saturday."
"I really would like to, Brad. I'll try not to make stupid jokes, OK?" "OK."

So Saturday rolls around and I get the car and come over to Shorty's house.
Maybe ten o'clock in the morning. The driveway just goes up to the side of the
house so I pull in and stop. As I get out of the car a woman, nice looking
woman comes out on the porch and calls to me. "Hi. You must be Brad." "Yes,
ma'm." "Patty will be ready in a minute. I'm her mother. She wanted to know if
you'll need her folding chair." "Gee, I don't think so, but why don't we have
it along just in case?" "Good idea. If you don't mind, it's right here in the
hall."

The house was pretty big and they had a lot of really good looking furniture
and painting and things. "Nice place." "Thank you. Patty's father was pretty
successful so we were fortunate that way. I don't know if she told you but
he's been gone for about two years now." "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'm." "Oh,
no. I mean we divorced. Much better for Patty and her brother. Now then the
chair. It's right here." Just as I start to fold up the chair I hear a bumping
noise on the stairs. There, coming down the carpeted stairway was Shorty, sort
of slipping down the steps on her bottom, her little arm sliding along the
railings of the bannister. She had on jeans that had the legs cut all the way
off and a yellow tank top that really showed off her outstanding chest. I
guess I must have been staring. "Hi, Brad," she said. "Coming down's easy.
Going up's another matter. You all ready?" "Hi," I said, "Let me stow the
chair and I'll come back and give you a lift to the car." "OK. Mom, we'll be
back by dinner time, OK?" "Have a nice time. Will Brad be able to have dinner
with us this evening?" "Gee," I said, "I guess so. My folks are going out
tonight so I'm sort of on my own." "Good. We'll see you two about six, then."
I headed out the door with the chair and about halfway across the porch I
realized that Shorty had trundled right out on the porch behind me. "You
really can walk, can't you?" "Surprise! I'll let you give me a lift down the
steps to your car though. I could do it, but I just thought we could save some
time." "Deal." She waddled along, her arm making pinwheels in the air to keep
her balance. She wasn't wearing a bra. The way she moved, that was real
obvious. Not that I minded, or that she needed one. Great chest. No support
required. "Where we going?" "Have you ever been to a steeplechase?" "A what?"
"Steeplechase. The horse race where it's sort of cross country with hurdles
and things?" "No. I've seen them on TV, but I've never been to one. Is that
what we're going to do?" "If you want to. Just watch, not ride. They sell
picnic stuff there for lunch. What do you think?" "Boy, you really know what
turns a girl on. Horses and food. Let's go!"

I buckled Shorty into the seat beside me, a very nice experience in itself,
and we headed out into the country. "Do you ride?" she asked me. "Horses?"
"Yes, horses, silly. I know you ride a bike!" "Yes some. We don't like, own
horses, but we go out to this place near my uncle's and go riding there. Do
you ride?" "I wish. Never could get anyone to take me. Do you think I could? I
mean stay on the horse and everything?" "That would depend on the horse. Some
are real easy and some are all over the place. Why? You want to  go riding
some time?" "Like to try it. Where's the steeple chase?" The steeple chase
grounds were just off to the left and we pulled in, paid the admittance and
parked. We would have to go past the barns and up the hill to get a good view.
"That's where we ought to go to watch. It's pretty far. I better get the
chair." "No." "It's a pretty good hike on rough ground, Shorty." "No." "I can
carry you, I guess." "No. I can walk." "OK, it's your stumps." "Please don't
call them stumps, Brad. It's the way I was born. Nothing's ever been cut off,
so they're not stumps, OK? Legs, stubs, whatever, just not stumps. Makes me
sound like some kind of cripple. I don't want to feel like a cripple." "All
right. I'll remember. But, hey, you're what shall I say, uh, barefoot." "By
George, so I am. Love to feel the grass in my toes!" and she giggled.

I felt a lot better. I think she did too.

I grabbed a blanket from the back seat and we headed past the barns. Gotta say
there were lots of people staring. Some tried to pretend that they weren't.
but everybody checked us out. I was beginning to feel a little weird. Still,
Shorty was one neat girl and whatever it took, it was worth it. "Can we look
in at the horses?" "I guess so. They have some trials and things first, and
that doesn't start for a while." "Oh gosh!" "What?" "I stepped in something
that is defifnitely not grass." "That happens a lot around horses. You sure
you don't want me to carry you?" "No. It's OK. Do the horses have names?"
"Sure. This on's called Sunny. Here, at least let me lift you up so you can
pet him." "No...well, I guess that would be OK, if you don't mind."

I lifted her up and she reached out and stroked the bay geldings muzzle. "Ooh.
It's real soft and sort of prickly all at once. Neat!" Sunny must of thought
so, too. He snuffled and nuzzled her chest. "Don't get personal, young man,"
she giggled to the horse. "Just do well in the race! See you later." I put her
back on the ground and we headed up the hill. It looked like a good place to
watch. A thick patch of woods nearby blocked off part of the course, but from
there we'd be able to see more than down at the grandstand area.

It was clearly a lot of work for Shorty to get up the slope. She switched and
swivelled her way along beside me, trying to move as quickly as possible. She
didn't say a word. Just kept working her way along. She was perspiring and
breathing hard as we reached the top. "There! You did it!" I said. "You
climbed the hill!" "Sorry it took me so long," she panted. "my...feet hurt.
Maybe I shouldn't have been so bull-headed." The end of her one leg stub and
the soft flesh on the other side were both real red. "Oh wow." I spread out
the blanket and she quickly sat back. "That's a bunch better," she said with a
thin smile. She was still out of breath. "I'll be right back,"I said. "The
soft drink guy's just back a way and I 'll get us some Cokes or something,
OK?" "Get me a couple," she panted. "See if they have any orange soda, or
whatever. Just water even." and she toppled back onto the blanket.

When I got back she was sitting up again, sort of fanning her self with her
arm stub. She was soaking wet. "See, one of the problems with having such
short arms and legs," she said, "is that there's that much less skin area for
cooling. I can get overheated very easily, and then it takes a while to cool
down. Thanks for the drink...um do you mind holding it for me? I could sort of
balance it on my arm but I'm a little shakey and I don't want to spill it."
She downed the orange drink in three tips of the bottle. "Do you want me to
find something like a towel or ...?" "Thanks, Brad. I'll cool down faster with
the evaporation. Feels good."

I opened the coke I'd gotten for myself and took a sip. "Your mom seems to be
pretty nice." "Mm. She really is. My brother's OK too, if you can stand little
brothers." "What's he like? Your brother?" "He wasn't there, this morning was
he? Oh that's right, he's got some big deal thing tonight and he'd gone over
to the neighbors' to pick up some stuff. He's Korean. Well, not any more, but
he's adopted. His name's Kim and he's really my good guy helper. After I was
born my folks thought it would be good if there was someone else in the family
and nothing happened in the usual way so they adopted Kim. My father never
liked him much though. Always acted like he was some kind of foreigner, not a
member of the family. Oh look! There come the horses!"

A few of the horses that weren't in the regular race were being taken over the
fence and brush jumps.

"They do that sometimes to check the take off and landing spots. The race
itself won't start for a little while. You OK? Would you like that second
drink yet?" "Please. Maybe I can hold it myself this time.  Just hold it up
like you did before, OK?" She took the end of the bottle between her teeth and
closed her lips around it, raised her arm stub and tipped the bottle up. "So
that's how you do it. Neat." She drained about half the contents. "Problem
is," she said, balancing the bottle on her arm, still holding the neck in her
teeth, "I pretty well have to finish the bottle. I haven't figfured out how to
put it down yet. I used to be able to when I was smaller, but I've gotten so
top-heavy these last few years that I fall over when I lean too far foreward."
She finished the contents and let the empty bottle slip to the blanket. "There
are pluses and minuses to big hooters, I guess," she laughed. "I think they're
perfect," I said. I wasn't exaggerating. "They stick out farther than I can
reach, though. Unless you figure that they actually are my reach." "How's
that?" "Oh, nothing. I just hold things between my arm and one side of my
chest sometimes. As if I really have two hands. I can reach some things that
way." "Cool. So what's a minus?" She looked at her chest. The yellow tank top,
soaked with perspiration gave perfect definition  to her breasts.

"I don't know if I should get in to this, but well, OK, did mom say anything
about my father?" "Only that they were divorced. Something about it being
better for your brother and you." "Well, when I was starting to develop, I
think is the phrase, he used to come in to my bedroom and get, well, very
personal. Not like a father shold. At least I didn't think so. He used to
fondle my young breasts and my...well he scared me. And when I got older it
continued, and...well never mind. I've said too much already. Maybe if by
boobs hadn't been so, big, it wouldn't have set him off so." "Shorty?" "Hm?" I
had some psych classes last semester, and we studied stuff like that. One
thing's for sure, It was his problem, all the way. You could have been flat as
a board and he still would have found some reason to do the kind of things he
did. So don't be blaming your pretty self for him being sick, OK? Besides,
your boobs are way too perfect to be hanging some bad rap on." "Thank you,
Brad." Her eyes were bright and glistening. she reached over with her little
arm and patted me on the shoulder. "Anyhow, he's gone now. I guess I'll be
OK." "Sure."

It was almost time for the race to begin. Some other folks had spread their
blankets on the hilltop and the vendor was working his way up the hill. "What
do you want for lunch? They've got hot dogs and burgers and some taco kind of
thing and some other stuff?" "Actually, I was hoping for cold lobster and
Champagne, but (sigh) I guess the burger will have to do." "Hey, the old
spunky Shorty is back. Hurray!" We polished off the burgers and I fed her
french fries, one at a time and we had some more soft drinks. Things were
going good. THe horses assembled for the race and a distant PA system that had
been playing some kind of moldy oldies stopped that and an announcer gave the
details. The they were off. Shorty was enthralled. One horse and rider
misjudged the first hedge and went down, and the field took two more brush
jumps, a fence and headed into the long straight. Shorty was bouncing up and
down, sort of doing her version of clapping her hands. Actually what she was
doing was slapping the side of her breast with that little arm. Hey, whatever
works, right? Anyhow the horses took a water jump, losing another contestant
and pretty soon were lost from sight behind the trees. Shorty was smiling from
ear to ear. Then she started rocking a little from side to side. "What?" "Is
there a bathroom around?" "Not up here. I think they have porta-potties down
near the barns." "They have what?" "Portable johns. Toilets." "Interesting. So
what would you do if you had the call?" she asked with an impish smile. "I'd
head for the woods there. Whole lot closer. Probably a whole lot cleaner,
too." "Easy for you to say, person of the male persuasion. Probably be OK for
me, too, if I were built a little higher off the ground." "You need to go?"
"In the worst way. All those drinks, probably." "If you'll permit me, I'll
give you a lift over to the seclusion of those bushes there." "Thanks, Brad.
Always the gentleman." I picked her up and made our way past the other
blankets to the wooded area. I didn't look to see if anyone was watching. Just
headed into the woods. "So OK, person of the male persuasion, how do we do
this?" she asked. It took some thought. "I think maybe if I hold you in front
of me, that would work best." "Facing, or away?" "Away. Do you, er, go...sort
of more foreward or more down?" "I've never paid much attention. Foreward I
guess. The only other times I've had to go standing up my brother helped me.
Usually someone just puts me on the toilet and I go. Then they wipe me and
that's that.  Brad, I'm really sorry. I guess I didn't think things through.
But let's do something quick before I mess my jeans." I undid her jeans and
took them off and her panties, and held her facing away from me. "Can you hold
me open?" "What?" "I dribble all over the place otherwise. Hold me open so I
pee a stream! Please!" "Put your arm around my neck!" "OK" Right...Now you
mean like this?" "Yes, good...Oooooh."

That's not the sort of moment you forget very quickly. When she was done, I
used my paper napkin to dry her and then put her panties and jeans back on.
"That wasn't as bad as I thought," she said. "Thanks a bunch." "You're
welcome." "Don't you have to go?" "Yes, but" "Oh, heavens, he's shy." "No I'm
not, I just..." "Well Go ahead, silly. Besides I want to see how big and
handsome it is." It was big at this point, both because of the young lady I
was holding and the fact that I really did have to go. "Just put me down and
go." And so I did. "Nice. Bigger than my brother's. Can you write your name in
the snow?" "Not in the summer time." "Touche!"

We watched the rest of the race from our blanket and I carried Shorty and the
blanket down the hill. Her stubs were still too raw for her to walk
comfortably.

We took our time going back to her house, talking about everything under the
sun, but it was only five thirty when we got there. "Oh I'm so glad you kids
are back," Her mother said as we pulled in. "I've got to help Kim with his
project tonight and I've already started dinner. Shorty, Honey, show him where
things are, OK, You'll just have to help yurselves. The thing's over at eleven
so we'll be home right after that.  Will you be OK?"

Would we be OK? Certainly. We sat, talked, watched TV, ate dinner and about
eight thirty Shorty says, "Brad, I've really enjoyed today, and I'd like to
see you again, but could you help me with one more thing?" "Sure, what?"
"Could you help me with my bath?" "Your bath?" "Yes...I don't want to go to
bed smelling like sweat and that horse stuff I stepped in, and I have trouble
with the handles. Could you just...maybe ?" So I helped her up the stairs,
watched discretely as she disrobed and got all of her wonderfully moving parts
into the bathroom. "Actually, you could use a shower yourself, sport," she
said with that impish smile I'd seen before. "You smell a little like a barn
yourself. Wanna try it?"

Now, you've got to imagine the rest of that shower, because there are no words
I know that adequately describe sharing a shower with a cute blonde with only
little stubs for an arm and a leg. A real sexy one, to boot.

So OK, we went to bed for a while. Good. I mean real good. Safe, but good. For
sure we'll see a lot more of each other. A lot more.

Oh yeah, I was gone by eleven.