Last Wednesday, Scott Biellman was picking up a typical, boring lunch in the company cafeteria when he spotted a cute Asian guy sitting by himself at a table. "Hmm, worth a try," he thought, considering that he had been working at this company for several months and hadn't yet found anyone to date. As he walked around to the cashier, he had a better view of the table and noticed that the cute guy was sitting in a wheelchair, a sleek red model. His heart immediately started pounding. "Okay, definitely worth a try, " and he grabbed his tray and started rushing over. He slowed down and tried to look casual as he approached the table.
"Hey, mind if I join you?"
Steve looked up from his lunch and saw a blond-haired, blue-eyed, godlike boy who looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie catalog. He said, "Uh, sure."
Scott grabbed a chair right next to Steve and sat down. He offered his hand and said, "My name's Scott, Scott Biellman."
"I'm Steve Kan," Steve said, taking Scott's hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Scott had thought that Steve wasn't a big guy, but then he noticed Steve's lean yet well-muscled forearms, shown off nicely by his polo shirt.
"Which department are you in?"
"Software," Steve replied, then added, "I bet you're in Sales."
"How'd you guess?"
"The way you look, you could sell a bicycle to a fish," Steve said, grinning.
Scott smiled, and Steve noticed his ears start to turn red.
After a moment, Steve said, "So aren't you going to ask?"
"Ask what?"
"Why I'm in a chair."
Scott paused. Of course he was curious, but he said, "Why don't you ask me why my hair is blond."
Steve played along. "Okay, why is your hair blond?"
"Because I bleached it this morning." Scott paused while Steve stared. "No, actually, my father's hair is blond, my grandfather's hair is blond, my great-grandfather's..." He stopped as Steve began to laugh.
"Okay, I get it. Fine, but I'll tell you anyway. I was rock-climbing two years ago when I fell. When I hit the ground, my spinal cord was injured, so I'm paralyzed from the waist down."
"But I can already tell that you're not bitter about it," Scott said.
"Yeah, I got over it right away. I've always thought my brain was my biggest asset, anyway, and nothing happened to that. Do I seem crazy to you?" Steve grinned.
Scott grinned too and said, "No, but I always did think rock-climbing was crazy. Right up there with skiing."
"Skiing? Don't tell me you don't ski. I learned how to ski again after my accident, and I love it."
Scott's eyes widened. "Really? What other sports do you do?"
"I swim basically every day. I also play wheelchair tennis."
"Tennis, huh? Let's play sometime. I'm not bad. But hey, I bet you also work out, right? You want to go work out with me after work today?"
Steve was surprised, but also happy. "Uh, okay, sure. Um... where do you want to meet?"
"In front of the building, say 5:15?"
"You sales guys take off right at 5, don't you?" Steve laughed. "Okay, sure."
Scott looked down at his tray and saw that he had finished his lunch. He had no idea what had been in it.
At 5:10 Scott was waiting in front of the building. He tried to keep himself from pacing. Two minutes later, he saw Steve wheel out of the elevator and towards the glass doors at the entrance. He admired how Steve moved without any apparent effort, giving his wheels a push just often enough to keep himself moving at an easy walking pace. Scott suddenly realized that the front doors were heavy, and was about to rush over and help but then hesitated, thinking that Steve must go through these doors every day. Steve opened one of the doors and pushed through all in one smooth motion. Scott was impressed.
Steve wheeled over and stopped next to Scott. "So, how are we getting there? My car's right here." He pointed to a grey Toyota sedan parked in a handicapped spot just steps away.
Scott had never seen a para get into a car, much less drive one, but he reluctantly said, "We should both drive, because the gym is close to my place, and I need to grab some clothes."
"Okay, I'll wait for you here."
"Don't you need to change?"
Steve replied by pulling off his polo shirt, revealing a black tank top underneath. It showed off his hard arms and shoulders, and Scott felt himself getting a bit excited. "I'm ready to go. Oh, does this gym have a pool?"
Scott stammered, "Y-yeah, it does. I'll grab my trunks, too."
Steve wheeled towards his car, and called over his shoulder, "Well, aren't you gonna get going?"
Scott managed a "Sure" and ran towards his car, parked several rows away. When he drove up to the entrance a few minutes later, Steve's car was already waiting. He pulled up alongside and waved, then continued forward and watched Steve in the rear-view mirror. He appeared to be steering with just his right hand; Scott was very curious how Steve's car was adapted for him.
Less than half an hour later they reached Scott's apartment building. Scott drove straight into a parallel space and got out of the car as Steve parked directly behind him. He walked up to Steve's window and said, "Just wait a minute, I'll be right down."
Steve said, "Wait, the gym's not far from here, right? Let's just take my car. I'll drop you off back here afterwards."
Scott said, "Sure, no problem," and jogged into the building, thinking about how Steve would drive.
Steve watched him go and thought about the situation. It seemed that Scott enjoyed being around him, but was he interested in him? Was Scott even gay? He might be able to find out, if he could get a look at Scott's apartment.
Scott came back down quickly, dressed in a white tank top and jean shorts. He had decided to choose something that would help compress his groin area, at least for now. He walked up to Steve's car and noticed that Steve's wheelchair was in the front passenger seat. Steve motioned him around to his open window and said, "Do you mind sitting in back? Or you can move my chair to the trunk."
"No problem, I'll just ride in back." He jumped in behind Steve and noticed the wheels of Steve's chair sitting in the footwell on the right side of the back seat.
"Now how do we get there?" Steve asked. Scott directed him to the gym located just a few minutes away. As they got underway, Scott peered over Steve's left shoulder and asked, "How does that work?"
Steve had both hands occupied, so he didn't point, but he said, "See this handle I'm holding with my left hand? It's a twist throttle, just like on a motorcycle. The lever above it controls the brakes. And I steer with my right hand. Really easy."
"Wow, that is really simple." Scott noticed that Steve drove aggressively, pushing his car hard.
"You've got an S2000, right?"
"I guessed you were a car buff, from the way you were driving," Scott said, thinking about driving Steve in his roadster.
"I really want to drive it, but we'd have to get hand controls for the stick."
"Those really exist? I thought hand controls were only available for automatics."
"Yeah, but they're more complicated."
Scott said, almost slyly, "Well, let's go for a ride when we get back."
"All right!" Steve was smiling like a little kid.
They reached the gym and Steve parked in a handicapped spot right in front of the entrance. Scott got out of the back seat and asked, "Um, anything I can help you with?"
"No, just stand back and watch."
Scott watched eagerly as Steve opened the driver's door, revealing his legs in the loose-fitting wrinkled khaki slacks he wore to work. Steve reclined his seat to make more room. He reached under his left thigh with his left hand and lifted his left foot out of the car, placing it on the ground to give his body more balance. The sight of Steve's limp, lifeless leg almost caused Scott to go crazy, but there was more to come. Steve reached over to the passenger's seat and grabbed his wheelchair with both hands, pulling it easily across his body and onto the ground, facing towards the rear of the car, resting it on the two small front wheels. He unfolded the back, raising it to the vertical position, and with his left hand held the rear of the chair off the ground using the horizontal bar running across the middle of the back. With his right hand he reached over to the back seat and grabbed one of the wheels, bringing it out and attaching it to the left side of the chair. Using just his left hand, Steve spun the chair around 180 degrees on its three wheels so it now faced the front of the car. Then he grabbed the other wheel with his right hand and attached it to the right side of the chair. Steve positioned the chair as close as possible to the car and placed his left palm on the seat. Reaching behind him with his right hand, he placed his palm on the back of the reclined driver's seat and then pushed up with both hands, lifting his butt into the air, and slid it across to the wheelchair seat. Steve's right leg was now almost straight, extending through the doorway of the car into the footwell. Steve picked up his left foot with his left hand and placed it on the footrest of his wheelchair. Then he picked up his right leg with his right hand and lifted his right foot out of the car, placing it on the footrest as well. He pushed up on both wheels with his hands and moved his butt back into position in the wheelchair, so his back touched the backrest. He leaned over adjusted his feet so they were neatly in place on the footrest.
Scott was very impressed by the speed with which Steve got out of the car; it had taken less than a minute. His jaw must have been slightly open, because Steve glanced at him and said, "Hey, you do it every day for two years, you get good."
Steve locked the car, and they headed inside the gym, Steve easily keeping pace with Scott. Steve looked around as they entered, comparing it to the gym where he usually worked out. The machines were a bit newer, maybe a bit better maintained, but it was more crowded. He was willing to give it a try. They headed for the locker room. Scott grabbed some towels and walked around humming while he stole glances surreptitiously at Steve, who was taking off his shoes and socks. Then Steve began pulling off his pants. Scott stared openly now, fascinated, as Steve lifted himself off the chair with his hands on the wheels and then, with his butt in the air, hooked his thumbs in his waistband and slid his pants down to reveal a pair of short, square-cut purple nylon Speedo swim trunks. Scott had been looking forward to seeing Steve's legs and was now holding his breath. He had never seen a para's legs except in rare pictures, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Steve moved his butt forward to the edge of the seat so he was no longer sitting on his pants, then slid the pants down. He used his hands to lift his feet out of his pants, one by one, repositioning them on the footrest, then moved his butt back to its usual position on his chair.
Scott was in a reverie. Steve's legs were very thin, as deeply tanned as his upper body, and the most beautiful objects Scott had ever seen. His hairless thighs lay parallel to each other on the thick cushion and were separated by just two or three inches at the knees, and his calves, covered thinly by short black hair, extended straight down at a 90 degree angle to his thighs. His feet were parallel to the ground, the toes bent slightly as they hung over the front edge of the footrest. Steve's calves were so thin it looked like he could put his hand all the way around them.
Steve noticed Scott staring at his legs, but he didn't mind; everyone stared. In fact there were a few other guys in the locker room looking right now. Steve held up his pants and said, "Yo... yo, Scott, where do I put these?" Scott snapped out of his trance and said, "Uh, yeah, here's my locker." Steve wheeled over and threw his pants in along with his shoes and socks. As they headed out of the locker room, Scott said, "Uh, Steve, you don't mind people staring at your legs?"
Steve shrugged and said, "I'm comfortable with my body, so I don't care what other people think. In the beginning it bothered me that I was losing my muscles, but then I realized that it was my body trying to make life easier for me. My body tries to be as efficient as possible; if I don't use my legs, it doesn't use up resources trying to keep up the muscles there. This way my legs are lighter, and it's easier to pick them up and move them around. They also drag less when I'm swimming."
Scott said in an awed voice, "Yeah, you've definitely got a point." He wanted to touch them. He wanted to caress them.
"Where are the free weights? Since you're with me, let's try those first."
"Okay," Scott replied, still a little dazed, "over there."
They reached the bench, which was about a foot and a half off the ground, a foot wide and maybe five feet long, with a padded surface. The bar holding the free weights was suspended about a foot off the bench, perpendicular to it. Steve wheeled along the right side of the bench and stopped, then lifted his butt forward in the chair. He picked up his left leg with his left hand and moved his foot to the ground. Then he placed his left palm on the bench, and with his right palm on the seat of the wheelchair, lifted his butt over to the bench. His left leg flopped over, leaning on the edge of the bench. Steve grabbed his right leg with his right hand and moved his foot onto the ground; when he let go of his leg, his right leg flopped over to rest against his left leg. Steve picked up his left leg again, lifting the foot over the bench so that he straddled it. Both his thighs now splayed outwards, his calves vertical and his feet flat on the ground. Steve leaned backwards onto his elbows on the bench, then onto his back, careful to avoid hitting his head on the bar.
"Okay, let's start with a hundred, I guess. What's on there now?"
Scott adjusted the weight discs on the bar until there were fifty pounds on each side, then he stood at the side of the bar as Steve's spotter. "Okay, go ahead."
Steve reached up with both arms and placed his hands on the bar, directly above his chest. He pushed up, lifting the bar off and away from its supports. He lowered it to his chest, then lifted it, straightening his arms all the way to complete the press. Scott watched closely to be sure Steve had no trouble, but it looked amazingly easy. Steve repeated the press four more times, then moved to 120 pounds and performed five presses, with a bit more difficulty. Scott said, "Wow, I bet you can press more than me."
Steve replied, "Well, how much should I try?"
"How about, um, 150?"
Steve said, "Sure, no problem."
Scott placed 75 pounds on each end of the bar, and Steve tried the press. He struggled visibly this time, his face turning red and his arms and chest shaking a bit, but he completed it. Scott said, "Whew. No problem."
"Okay," Steve said, sitting up and transferring quickly back to his wheelchair, "Now you try it."
"Uh, um..." Scott said, turning very red, "Let's go get a drink, I'm thirsty."
Steve smiled, decided not to mention that Scott hadn't lifted anything, and wheeled after Scott towards the vending machines.
After they had a cold drink, Scott a Mountain Dew and Steve a Coke, Steve wanted to work his pecs on the Nautilus. Scott grabbed some dumbbells nearby so he could see Steve transfer into the machine. While Steve worked his chest muscles, he watched Scott use the dumbbells. Scott seemed to use them often because he had a routine. His shoulders were well developed, and when he started working his biceps, Steve began to find Scott even more attractive than before. But he still didn't know whether Scott would find him desirable, even though Scott seemed to be curious about his body.
As Steve finished up and started to transfer back into his wheelchair, Scott put his dumbbells down immediately and paid attention. The seat of the Nautilus machine had an attachment at the front for working leg muscles; this just got in Steve's way, so he had to pick up his right leg and carry it way up so his foot would clear the attachment in front. As he did this, his calf bent all the way until his ankle almost touched his hip, his heel on the seat of the machine. Scott was struck by how little space Steve's entire leg took up when it was folded like this. Steve then placed his right foot down on the ground and proceeded with his transfer, lifting his left foot onto the footrest of his wheelchair, sliding his butt across to the seat, and then lifting his right foot into the footrest. Steve reached down with his hands and adjusted his legs until they were in position, then he turned to Scott and said, "There's something else you can help me with. I'd like to do vertical push-ups on the U-bar. Usually I have one of the gym attendants lift me up, but now that you're here..."
Scott felt the bulge in his shorts expand painfully. He said, "Sure, just tell me what to do." Steve wheeled over to the U-bar, a set of two parallel handles about two feet apart, suspended four or five feet in the air, with enough room in the middle of the U for a body to do pushups on the handles. He positioned his wheelchair under the U-bar, backing in so he faced the open side of the U, and said, "Okay, now grab me at the waist and lift me up."
Scott asked, "So how much do you weigh, Steve?"
"Don't worry, not 150." He smirked as Scott groaned. "Seriously, only about 110."
Scott crouched down and placed his hands on both sides of Steve's waist, and Steve put his hands on Scott's shoulders. For Steve, the feel of Scott's hard shoulders was electric. For Scott, the feel of Steve's slim hips and tight abs made him wish he hadn't chosen such tight shorts. Scott lifted Steve up, and Steve pushed down on Scott's shoulders to lift him up above the two handles. The front of Steve's body briefly brushed against Scott's, and on his chest Scott could feel the slight bump of Steve's dick through his thin nylon trunks. Scott started shaking slightly, and Steve said, "Oh come on, even 110 is too much for you?" Scott forced himself to stop shaking. Steve grabbed the two handles, his arms straight, and Scott let go of his waist. Steve's legs now hung straight down, his feet slanted downwards in a relaxed, natural position. The thinness of Steve's legs was more apparent than ever, and Scott loved it. Steve did a pushup, lowering his body until his biceps were horizontal, then pushing back up again. As he did this, his legs swung gently back and forth, brushing lightly against each other, totally out of Steve's control. Scott couldn't bear it anymore, and he said, "I-need-to-go-to-the-bathroom-I'll-be-right-back." Steve was startled but managed to yell "Hey!" as Scott ran off, leaving him hanging in midair with no way of getting down. Scott ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, panting. He put a hand on the front his shorts, trying to get himself to settle down. Then he remembered that Steve was stuck without him, and he ran back. Steve was just completing 20 reps, and he said, "About time. What happened to you?" Scott said, "Sorry, um, must have been lunch." He grabbed Steve's waist again, and Steve put his arms on Scott's shoulders. Scott lowered Steve down, managing to land one of Steve's feet on the footrest, but the other landed on the floor. After he put Steve's butt down on the seat, Scott let go of Steve's hips and Steve picked up his errant foot with his hand, returning it to the footrest. Then he slid his butt back into position.
Something occurred to Scott. "Say, Steve, I guess you don't have any spasms in your legs. You must be a T12 or L1, then, huh?"
Steve was surprised and said, "I'm actually an L1-L2, complete, but I can barely move my hip muscles at all. How do you know so much about paras?"
Scott said, "Oh, just what I picked up in high school biology." Along with hours of research on the Internet.
"Well, you must have had some high school biology class, then, because I didn't learn this stuff even when I was a pre-med in college," Steve said. "Now that I'm all hot and sweaty, it would feel good to get in the pool."
Scott had been looking forward to this. He said, carefully, "The pool here is kind of small; the one at my apartment is bigger. Do you want to go swim there instead?"
Steve thought, "Swim at Scott's apartment. Ride in Scott's car. Go to Scott's room." He said to Scott, "Okay." Both of them were thinking, "Yessssss!"
They toweled themselves off. Scott noticed that Steve didn't towel off his legs. Steve looked up at him and said, "Don't forget my stuff." Scott said, "No problem," putting Steve's clothes in his gym bag. They left the gym, going back to Steve's car. "To get an idea of how light my wheelchair is, why don't you put it in the trunk," Steve said. "Then you can sit in the front."
Scott agreed, and stood by as Steve transferred from his chair into the driver's seat. Steve pointed out the button on the end of the wheel axle which released the wheel from the chair frame. Scott had to try a few times before he got the hang of pushing the button and pulling the wheel at the same time. He took both wheels together and put them in the trunk, then came back for the chair frame. Steve said, "You can pick it up with one hand," and Scott tried it. Even though he was expecting the chair to be light, he didn't expect it to be featherweight. It probably weighed less than fifteen pounds. He folded the back and put it in the trunk. Then he got in the front passenger seat and directed Steve back to his apartment.
Along the way, Steve commented, "Your apartment looked really nice."
Scott said, "Yeah, it is, but it's expensive. Especially since my roommate got fired and had to move out; I'm paying double for my two-bedroom now. I wish I had a, um, new roommate..." Scott almost hit himself on the forehead as he realized what he had just said. Why hadn't he thought of that before? "So, where do you live, Steve?"
Steve was excited as well. He said, "Um, I'm living with my older brother, actually, right now. He offered to let me stay with him after my accident. But he's kind of overprotective, so I was thinking about moving out."
At the same time, Steve said, "Can I stay with you?" and Scott said, "You can stay with me!"
They looked at each other, and they started laughing. Steve nearly hit a police car parked on the side of the road, but neither of them cared.
When they reached Scott's apartment, Scott jumped out and grabbed Steve's wheelchair from the trunk, attaching the wheels as Steve pulled his left leg out of the car. Watching him transfer was doubly exciting for Scott, because Steve was still wearing just his purple Speedos and his tank top; he didn't need his shoes to drive, either.
"I'm kind of hungry, actually, so could we swim after? Is your pool lighted at night?" Steve asked.
Scott wanted to see Steve swim right away, but he said, "Yeah, no problem. Let me show you the room, then, and we can change there. Do you want to take a shower before dinner?"
"Well, your shower probably isn't accessible right?"
"Oh yeah, that's right."
"Well, if you don't mind my smell..."
"No, not at all! In fact, all I smell is your cologne. What is it?"
"Abercrombie, my favorite," Steve said. He thought, "This should give him a hint."
Scott thought, "Well, I know a lot of straight guys like Abercrombie too." He said, "Cool, I like the smell."
They entered the apartment building, Scott holding the door for Steve, and went up in the elevator to the third floor. "As you can see, it's totally accessible," Scott said proudly.
"Yeah," Steve said, "But promise me one thing."
"What is it?" Scott had no clue what it could be.
"You're good at this already, and I like that. I don't need any help unless I ask for it. I want to be as independent as I can."
"Of course! No sweat," Scott replied. He liked the part where Steve said "I like that."
Scott led the way to his apartment, Steve wheeling behind him. They entered, and Steve was immediately impressed by how large it was. "What's the rent on this place?"
"1600, so 800 each."
"Okay, that's not bad." Steve had been thinking over a thousand.
"You can change in the second bedroom; that'll be yours, anyway."
Steve wheeled into what was to be his new room. It was completely empty, and looked the more spacious for it. There was a window across from the door, and a large closet on the wall next to the door. Steve quickly coaxed his legs into his khakis and put on his polo shirt again, then he wheeled out to the living room to look for clues. Unfortunately, there was nothing significant there. Scott didn't have much furniture, just a loveseat, a coffee table, and a nice big-screen TV. On the coffee table was the latest copy of "Men's Fitness" with the cover story, "She'll Love This In Bed."
"Not promising," Steve thought. On the other hand, there was a nice stereo and DVD player hooked up to the TV. He wheeled into the kitchen and looked around. There were just a few dishes lying around, some instant food, nothing special. He wheeled over to the refrigerator and opened it. Sam Adams beer. "Good taste," he thought. Then he heard Scott calling.
"Hey Steve, you ready?"
"Yeah," he said, wheeling out of the kitchen. He was surprised to see Scott dressed up, in a purple silk shirt and black slacks, and nice shoes. He was even wearing cuff links.
"Hey, you didn't have to be fancy," Steve said, looking down at his ordinary, now rather rumpled work clothes.
"Steve," Scott said, walking over and leaning in a bit, "You look good in anything."
Steve's face turned very slightly red, and he didn't know what to say.
Scott grinned and led the way out of the apartment. Now for the car. As they reached the curb, Scott opened the passenger door of his roadster and sat down on the edge of the seat, reaching up to release the clasps holding the roof. Then he pressed the button to lower the roof.
"This'll make it easier to transfer, won't it?" he said.
"Yeah, and mess up my hair, too," Steve said, grinning. Scott got out of the car, and Steve wheeled over to the edge of the curb and positioned his chair parallel to the car. The car seat was much lower than he was used to, but that was no problem. He shifted his butt forward to the edge of the cushion, picked up his left leg with his left hand and lifted his left foot into the passenger footwell. Then he put his left palm on the firm black leather seat of Scott's car, and with his right hand on his wheelchair cushion, he lifted his butt up and moved it to the left and down to the seat. As he did this, his right leg slid off the wheelchair seat and his right foot flopped off the footrest and onto the ground. His wheelchair slid back a few feet, and Scott lunged over anxiously to catch it.
"Don't worry, it's fine," Steve said, grabbing his right leg and pulling it into the car. The seat was pretty narrow, but it was comfortable. Steve reached over and closed the car door while Scott struggled again to remove the wheels from his wheelchair.
"Are you sure it'll fit in your trunk?" Steve asked.
Scott finally got the wheels off and said, "Yeah, should be okay." The trunk on his car was surprisingly big for a roadster, and he managed to get Steve's chair to fit.