The Fulfilment Community (Part 1 of 3)

 

THE FULFILMENT

COMMUNITY

By DOUG of London

Richard was a pessimist. Born in the 1960’s, he had been heavily influenced by the disabled and crippled men he had seen throughout his childhood. There were plenty of amputees around, casualties of the war, and since the outbreak of polio, many kids of his own age wearing “leg irons” (as they were called in Great Britain at that time).

He was briefly but seriously ill as a child when his appendix had exploded and he had been on the children’s ward for ten days, the ward where all the polio children were cared for with various exciting mechanical devices trying to stretch their bodies to avoid the ravages of the polio virus. He was very disappointed when he was sent back to school without any of the callipers and braces other kids got at the hospital and envied the boys his own age who had been fitted out with such exciting equipment.

He would stand rather forlornly in the school playground watching the polio boys with their uneven lurching gaits, their attempts to climb trees with rigidly stiff straight legs, their built-up shoes, and the luckiest of all with flailing crutches.

His grandparents lived in London and the train trip to visit them included arriving at the enormous terminus of Waterloo. In those days not so long after the war, it was impossible to walk across Waterloo station without a “sighting” usually of an amputee ex-service man, or sometimes a young man who’d already spent years swing-through-walking with crutches and a pair of long-leg braces. He even saw ex-soldiers walking on “stubbies” (although at that time he didn’t know the name for them) with short crutches or walking sticks. The association of crutches with both polio and amputees gave them a special attraction for Richard, and he found himself longing for braces of some sort, or an amputation.

Thus his early years were dominated and overwhelmed by obsessions around disability: and he often reflected that he knew he was obsessed with being disabled long before he knew he was gay. Growing up in a rural community in the south of England, he began to think he must be the only man who was both gay and anxious to be disabled.

Eventually he got a computer and started to explore the internet. He was overjoyed to discover that he was not alone. Not only were there lots of gay men out there in the world, but some of them were also keen to become disabled. Some hankered after various kinds of bracing as if they’d had polio, and others were desirous of amputations, often of one or two legs. It all boiled down to being attracted to enjoying the difficulties and challenges of disability.

The internet also revealed many other items of equipment for seriously disabled people, and although his love of leg braces was undiminished, he developed even greater fixation with the body and neck brace called a “Milwaukee”. To have his whole body bolted into such a heavy steel and leather brace, with even his neck encircled with steel, gave him the greatest of emotional feelings, and he decided that he would love for his spine and torso to be rigidly trapped in a Milwaukee on a permanent basis.

After many months of struggling with increasingly obscure websites, he finally found a way of getting an amputation, but to get it done safely in hospital conditions, was expensive, and Richard was a pessimist. He had a reasonable job as a shop assistant, but very little chance of saving, and no hope of ever saving enough for an amputation, or even buying himself some kind of brace.

He remained single. He was attracted to many men, and even more so if they were disabled. He had a brief fling with a couple of thalidomide victims, but neither were ready for any kind of commitment. He was very scared of telling other men of his obsession with becoming disabled and resigned himself to lonely masturbation in front of his laptop screen, admiring men with missing limbs, men wearing leg braces, and especially the very few locked in a Milwaukee brace.

As a pessimist, he considered buying a lottery ticket to be basically a waste of time and money. He even calculated the odds of getting a big win, which at the time he worked it out were many millions to one. Nevertheless, he bought a ticket every week. And despite his pessimism, he checked the ticket every week, knowing it would never yield a prize.

And then one day, it did.

He looked at the winning numbers and looked again at his ticket. Surely there was a mistake. He couldn’t have won? He knew it was so completely unlikely that it was unbelievable. Cynically, he took his ticket to the newsagent where he bought it. “Sorry to bother you, but I think this might be a winning ticket,” he said diffidently.

“Wow!” shouted the newsagent. “You’ve only gone and done it! You’ve won the big one!”

Richard had always known that he would shun publicity, and slightly to his own embarrassment he had worked out what he would do first. He resigned from his dull job and checked himself into an expensive health farm.

“I’d like to stay for a full month,” he explained. “I have enough money to do so. I’d like to be looked after, lose some weight, become fitter, and most of all have some time to myself to think about my future. I’d prefer some privacy for part of every day, and I’ll need access to my laptop.”

Within a few days of checking into the health farm Richard was beginning to form a plan. The privacy and seclusion enabled him to focus unchallenged on realising his deepest feelings and desires, and he started making notes in a very private little black notebook.

Despite the many millions at his disposal, his first action after completing the month at the health farm, was to be measured for a Milwaukee brace. He had found the company called “Veteran Braces” in North London who would manufacture one and he was clear he didn’t want a modern fibre glass version, but the most heavy, restrictive and challenging type, made with heavy steel and saddle leather. He even gave instructions that the steel which would encircle his neck should be wider, thicker and heavier than a conventional Milwaukee.

Whilst he waited for his brace to be constructed, he started house hunting. During his month at the health farm, he had created a very clear description of what he wanted: a large mansion, probably Victorian, set in secluded grounds with plenty of potential for a group of heavily disabled gay men to live out their lives in the full enjoyment of the physical challenges they desired.

He wanted easy access to London, but with the seclusion that a rural property could give, and decided to hunt for his mansion in Hampshire and Dorset. With a budget of over three million pounds, he had a choice of several possible properties, and he visited them travelling by train to the nearest station each time, and meeting anxious estate agents, all desperate to sell their most unattractive properties.

The first three were hopeless: one with insufficient grounds for privacy; the second with no possibility of installing a lift, and lots of rather cramped small rooms; and the third too decrepit to consider renovation—demolition and rebuilding being the only option.

Finally, he found his dream mansion. Travelling by train to the small Dorset town of Wareham, he was met by the estate agent at the station who took a narrow road south from the town, passing a rather remote garden centre, and then entering a heavily wooded and apparently deserted area. To his surprise, the car stopped abruptly at an insignificant gate with a narrow lane which appeared to plunge into dense woodlands.

“This is it sir,” said the agent. “I’ll just get the gate opened.”

Richard sat in the car, whilst the estate agent opened the gate, drove through, then ran back to shut it again. They followed the slightly overgrown track for half a winding mile, and then arrived in a wide open gravel car-park in front of a huge Victorian mansion.

“Built by a mill owner from the North,” said the agent, “and used as a hospital during both wars. It’s a very solid building, as you’d expect from its very solid first owner, and very grand inside. The main rooms are all enormous, the ceilings are very high, and it has a very grand hall and staircase. Even the staff bedrooms in the attic are pretty big.”

“It looks as if it’s exactly what I want,” said Richard. “Let’s see inside.”

An hour later, Richard offered half a million pounds for the place.

“That’s a lot under the original asking price,” said the agent, “but since it’s been on the market for three years, and the owner is in Australia, I’m pretty sure the house will be yours. What do you want such a great pile for?”

Richard smiled. “Just to live in and be able to entertain friends,” he said, thinking of the extra money he had available for a big renovation project. Suddenly Richard realised that he wasn’t a pessimist any more—in fact he had turned into a complete optimist!

Selling such a hard-to-sell property was a great excitement for the estate agent, and he quickly set to work to secure the deal for Richard. Whilst the legal documents were being prepared, Richard put the next part of his plan into action. He advertised in the gay contact magazines and on-line for a housekeeper and cook. Both were to be young gay men, prepared to move permanently to Dorset. As his advertisement included the phrase “to work directly for an extremely wealthy gay man” he was inundated with applications.

He did not reveal the location of the house and held interviews in a London hotel. He took a suite at the Park Plaza, near Waterloo Station and shortlisted a dozen men for each of the jobs. He was impressed by most of the men he interviewed, but if they did well in the general interview, they were given a supplementary challenge: how did they feel about living in a very remote location assisting with the lives of severely disabled gay men, especially with the knowledge that their disabilities were voluntarily chosen by them, and they would be needing assisted living to cope with the disability they desired.

A couple of the candidates eliminated themselves by not understanding the implications of the question, but there were three who stood out from the others by their reactions to Richard’s questioning.

“What if we have a resident who wishes to have all four limbs amputated?” said Richard. “You might find yourself having to wipe his arse.”

All three were positive in their responses to such questioning, one of them in particular showing knowledge and interest in BIID. Richard decided to get the three of them back to the hotel a few days later for a complete day, to meet together and see how well they would work together. The day was a great success, and Richard said, “Originally, I was only seeking two assistants, but you are all three eminently suitable. I like you all, and I’d like to offer all three of you a job at the specialist residential home I’m planning.”

He told them that the house was in rural Dorset, and that although it would be possible to live there immediately, lots of work would needed to make it suitable for its long-term residents. As he had bought the place at a bargain price, he had a generous budget for a complete renovation. In the first few weeks that they lived in the property, they would work together to create detailed plans for renovation and oversee the work. Richard’s team had been created.

First came Charlie, who Richard made his housekeeper. “There’s no job description at the moment: that’s something that will evolve in the coming weeks.” Next came Russell who would be the cook. “It’s obvious what you’ll be doing, but I warn you the present kitchen is terribly old-fashioned.” Finally was Valentine, who would be a general handyman as well as a gardener to start to sort out the long-neglected garden. It was Valentine who’d shown the most knowledge about BIID and other voluntary disabilities, and Richard wondered how long it would be before the man told him his desire.

“There are vast attic rooms,” said Richard, “where we can create our staff bedrooms. The main floor will be for the residents, and the ground floor will be the shared areas like dining room and lounges.”

Richard explained that he hoped they would bond together in such a way that they could share the responsibilities, and all contribute not only to the running of the house, but also the welfare of the residents. He hoped that eventually the place would run rather like a commune.

“You will be able to move in with your things as soon as you’ve seen the property and agreed to be part of our community. I am arranging for my furniture, such as it is, and other stuff tomorrow, and will be living there fulltime from tomorrow onwards.”

The group agreed to meet at Waterloo one week later. Before they parted to sort out their lives and prepare for the move to Dorset, Richard had a warning. “By the time we meet again, you’ll see a little change in me, because this week with the help of the wonderful North London manufacturer of specialist disabling equipment, I will be starting the process of becoming disabled myself.” He did not tell them that the following week he would be bolted and strapped into his massive and heavy Milwaukee brace, the brace that he intended to wear for the rest of his life.

Two days later, having seen his things delivered to the house, he returned to London for his appointment at Veteran Braces, the wonderful North London manufacturer of specialist disabling equipment. He felt a little apprehensive as the taxi took him to the brace maker. He knew he had passed the point of no return, and he was excited that soon he would be fully braced in his Milwaukee, but he was unable to guess how restrictive it would be and how he would be coping in the long run.

When he was taken into the fitting room, he gasped at the sight of the massive contraption.

“Feel the weight,” said the orthotist. “Are you quite sure about this?”

Richard picked up the brace and gasped again.

“It’s twelve kilos,” said the man, “the heaviest brace I’ve ever made.”

“Let’s get it on,” said Richard.

“You realise that you cannot get into it on your own and have no way of getting out of it again without help?” said the man.

“That’s part of the attraction,” said Richard acutely aware of the massive hard-on which had sprung up at the sight of the brace. “I’ve not spent this much money, or used so much of your time, to change my mind now. I’ve waited for this moment for many years.”

He stripped to his tee-shirt, and the orthotist began strapping and bolting him into the steel cage. He felt his body being crushed and pulled, and knew that behind him, out of his sight, the man was screwing and bolting the heavy steel bars permanently into place. The chin pad and the pads at the back of his neck were adjusted leaving him with almost no movement in his neck, and some final straps were pulled tight bringing wide leather pads pressing on his spine and chest.

“How is your breathing?” asked the technician.

“OK,” said Richard. “I can feel the restriction in my chest.”

“You have the additional rigid pads on your chest as you requested, but I can remove them if they restrict your breathing too much.”

“No,” said Richard, “this is exactly what I wanted.”

“And the neck ring? It’s much bigger than we ever put into traditional Milwaukees, and fairly close fitting around your neck.”

“It’s startling at first, but it’s definitely what I wanted.”

“Now, two tests,” said the technician. “First you must find out how you can sit and stand up; and then you must work out how to get dressed.”

Neither activity was easy, and the challenges emphasised to Richard that he was now genuinely disabled, and that from this moment onwards, life would be a lot harder than it had ever been before. He took a taxi to Waterloo, and a train to Wareham, all the while adjusting to the challenges of the Milwaukee. It was particularly hard to hide his constant erections as the leather and steel cage gripped him and his chin rested on the leather pad, where it would rest for many years to come. He was especially excited by the knowledge that he could not escape from the brace without assistance, and yet was about to go and live alone in the huge mansion with no-one to come to the rescue should he need them.

As arranged, he returned to Waterloo to meet his future colleagues. He had a few very restless nights adjusting to the difficulties of sleeping in the Milwaukee and was constantly aroused by the predicament he had put himself into. The three new companions were very interested in Richard’s brace, and he promised to undress and let them see it fully when they got to the house.

From Wareham, they took a taxi to the house, and Richard gave them a tour. He was delighted that all three loved the place, and were very eager to move in. Richard told them to arrange for transfer of their furniture and all their other things as soon as possible, and they agreed that they’d aim to all be installed with a month.

Before they left, Richard took off his shirt. The other gasped, as he thought they would, at the massive steel and leather structure in which he was trapped. Valentine, in particular, was especially admiring, and couldn’t stop himself from touching the heavy steel bars.

“I suggest that Charlie and Russell, might like to go for a walk around the grounds,” said Richard, “but Valentine, I need some help. Would you like to come up to my room with me?”

Upstairs, Richard explained. “As you can see, I am completely trapped in this brace. I cannot remove it myself, nor, of course, put it back on. I need help. I’ve been trapped in it for a full week, and I need to get washed and a clean tee-shirt. Can you help me?”

Valentine moved close to Richard. “I’d love to,” he said, and kissed Richard on the lips.

With Richard’s instructions, Valentine slowly released him from the brace. It wasn’t easy, or quick, and need specialist wrenches, but eventually Richard was free. Valentine was shocked by the massive weight of the apparatus as he laid it on the bed. He pulled off the soiled tee-shirt and used a sponge to wash Richard’s torso. Once dry, Richard pulled on a clean tee-shirt, and instructed Valentine to put the Milwaukee back on him. “Every nut and bolt must be tight, and every strap pulled as tightly as possible,” said Richard.

“Christ,” said Valentine, “you really want all this lot bolted on? It’s extraordinary. You really are totally trapped and unable to move in this thing. How does it feel?”

“Wonderful,” said Richard, “all my dreams come true.”

With Richard firmly strapped and bolted into his Milwaukee, Valentine dropped to his knees to enjoy Richard’s greatly engorged cock. Both closed their eyes and enjoyed a glorious moment together.

As he stood up, Valentine whispered, “That was beautiful my lovely friend.”

“Yes,” said Richard. “Rather unexpected, but lovely.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can with my stuff, as long as I can find a man with a van quickly, but meanwhile you’ll be here alone trapped in all that fearsome leather and steel. Will you be alright?”

“Yes,” said Richard, “and I hope you’ll be ready to release me for a few moments, when you come back. I cannot tell you how fulfilled I feel trapped in my brace. It’s even better knowing that it’s you who will come back to release me.”

Finally, with both fully dressed, they returned downstairs to meet Charlie and Russell. “What do you think of the gardens?” said Richard.

“We didn’t see much,” said Charlie, giggling slightly, “as we didn’t get past the potting shed.” Russell nudged him and joined in with the giggling.

It was Valentine who broke the spell. “So we’ve all found sex here in Dorset! Well done all of us!”

Richard called a taxi for the three, who all promised to return as soon as they could, with all their worldly goods, and as the taxi drove away, they looked back at Richard standing on the steps of the mansion. “Christ,” said Valentine, “I’ve fallen in love with that man.”

“And does he live fulltime strapped into that huge brace?” said Charlie.

“He has no choice as long as he is alone,” said Valentine, “as there is no way he can escape from it without lots of help.”

Richard turned away from the door as the taxi vanished into the trees. He was astonished at the sudden turn of events. Not only had he achieved the mansion and three excellent new friends, but one of them would be his lover, and it appeared that the other two had coupled together as well. He sat in the wide hall, and closed his eyes, feeling the rigid bondage in which he would now, and for ever, live.

Within a couple of weeks, the four men were reunited, together with an assortment of furniture, pots and pans, clothes and sundry items. The big house was not especially comfortable, but they organised temporary living arrangements, and looked forward to developing their new community.

Once all four had settled in, they met together in the extensive drawing room. “I’ve got a suggestion for the name of our new home,” said Valentine. “I hope it shows my understanding of what we’re undertaking, and I hope you like it. I suggest we call this place “Fulfilment Lodge”. What do you think?”

Richard was delighted. “Excellent: far better than “Valhalla” which was my suggestion, and it certainly expresses what we’re trying to do—provide a long-term home for a group of gay men to live their chosen lives, to be fulfilled.”

The conversation which followed would last, on and off, for many weeks, as they worked out how the building would be developed, and who they would invite to live in it. They decided that they would create an old-fashioned bondage dungeon, but they’d not offer it for hourly or daily rent. Fulfilment Lodge was to be for genuine long-term aficionados of extreme, usually permanent disabling bondage. They would hope to attract men who wanted amputations, and Richard said he would be able to help with the costs of such operations; they’d also be very keen to find men who were anxious for permanent bracing, as Richard was enduring; and they would support and encourage any man who had any other extreme modification desires.

The ground floor would be renovated to provide spacious lounges and a dining room for the residents. The large ground floor kitchen would be entirely remodelled, and Richard would have an office. A cinema would be installed in the basement, and an elegant glass lift would be constructed rising through all floors from the basement to the staff attics. The first floor would consist of six large bedrooms, all with disabled-friendly bathrooms, and new bathrooms would also be installed on the staff attic floor.

The new bathrooms would all have roll-in showers and electronic ‘Japanese’ toilets: they were to be ready for almost any kind of disability.

The original plan for four separate bedrooms in the attic was quickly abandoned, and replaced by a plan to create two self-contained flats. Valentine would live with Richard, and of course Russell and Charlie quickly came clean and admitted that they’d been very attracted to one another ever since the day they met.

They recruited a gay architect and judged that he would do the best possible job for them if he was told the full nature of the mansion’s future. He in turn found a small Bulgarian building firm that would carry out the renovations to the highest standard.

The location of the house would remain a closely guarded secret, and all potential residents would be interviewed in London, and not brought down to Dorset until they had been accepted for a trial period of residence. The four colleagues argued for some time about charges for residents. Richard was adamant that no-one should be turned away for being unable to pay their rent, but Russel was concerned that any wealthy residents must be expected to pay proportionately to their wealth.

Although it was equipped with only minimal equipment—a bondage chair and a number of scaffolding tubes around the walls—the dungeon provided a much needed space for respite during the chaotic months of renovation. The friends themselves painted the walls black and didn’t involve the workmen from the rest of the house. Richard was particularly keen for Valentine to secure his Milwaukee to the scaffolding poles, leaving him totally trapped. He asked Valentine to leave him in the total darkness, often for the whole night. Charlie was similarly keen on being confined in the dark, and Russell worked on making Charlie’s bondage in the chair as secure as possible. Charlie always demanded that he be blindfolded before they played together, although the dungeon itself was completely black when the door was closed and locked, and the light turned off.

Work continued for several months, and when completion was in sight, the team placed carefully worded, almost ambiguous, advertisements in various gay magazines and on the internet.

They were not surprised by the large number of fanciful messages from many gay men. There were those who didn’t understand “long-term” and tried to book for a day or two in the dungeon; there were those whose imagination far exceeded any reality such as wanting to “spend the rest of my life chained up naked in the damp cold basement with only straw to sleep on”. The team dismissed such requests as wildly impossible and guessed that the writers were getting excited by seeing their suggestions in an email and were not seriously expecting to be taken up.

It was several weeks before the first truly serious email arrived. A middle-aged man called Sam, stating that he had suffered from BIID since childhood, said that he was seeking a situation whereby he could live happily without hands. He recognised the significant difficulties of having his hands amputated, but said it was his life’s desire to lose both hands and become reliant on hooks. He said he knew he would need significant help whilst he recovered from the amputations, and would always be heavily disabled, but he hoped Richard’s community would accept him for permanent residency as a handless man.  

Richard shared Sam’s email with the others, and they agreed that it was genuine, and potentially the kind of resident they would welcome to live at Fulfilment Lodge. Richard arranged that he and Valentine would travel to London and interview Sam at the Park Plaza. Richard had been clear from the start that future residents should be acceptable to all three of his partners, and he proposed taking at least one of them to every interview.

They discovered that Sam was a mild-mannered man, who although gay, had never had a steady boyfriend. He had “come out” as suffering from BIID and wanting his hands removed, to a few potential partners, but none had understood, and all had dropped him quickly after they’d been told his deepest desire. Sam explained that he was old enough to request early retirement from his job as a bank teller, that he would retire with a good pension, and had a substantial house to sell if he moved to the community.

“I’ll be able to pay for my amputations once my house is sold, and still be confident of paying my rent for years to come. I hope I could contribute by offering my financial skills, and with hooks for hands, I’m sure I will learn to use my computer, and perhaps, if it’s appropriate, assist in the running of the community.”

Richard and Valentine agreed that Sam appeared to be exactly the kind of man they were setting up the house for, and they invited him to come and visit for a trial period of a month. They told him that they would expect him to use false artificial arms with his hands inside and use hooks on a daily basis. Sam assured them that he had been doing just that at home, but of course not all day at his office. He stated that except for the day of his arrival, they’d never see his hands, and they felt this was a very promising start to getting to know Sam and bringing him into their community. Sam said that he could take all his holiday allowance for the month’s trial and should be able to travel to the Lodge within a fortnight.

Richard and Valentine were telling Charlie about Sam, when Russell, carrying his laptop, rushed into the room in a state of great excitement. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said animatedly, “but look what I’ve just found on the internet: an iron lung. It appears to be in good condition, and it’s only in France. I think we should buy it. I’m happy to hire a van and go and collect it.”

Richard was extremely pleased. “I’d wondered about getting a lung, but I assumed it was impossible, or if we found one it would be too difficult to get it here. Send a reply quickly before anyone else wants it and make a good offer.”

“If we get it, and I go and drag it back from France, I’d like to book the first experience in it. I’ve often fantasised being trapped in an iron lung, and I’d want to be locked in for at least a week.”

“My dear friend,” said Richard, “I wouldn’t consider it for a week—if you go into a lung, we will lock you in for a month!”

“You can’t go on your own,” said Charlie. “I’ll come with you.”

“And by the time you get it back and we lock you in, Russell,” said Richard, “Sam will be with us and can be useful feeding you and generally looking after you. It will not only be a very good exercise for seeing how we will cope with severely disabled men, but also a very good trial to see how Sam fits in.”

With their offer accepted, the team had to plan the complex task of bringing the iron lung to Dorset: a large enough van to contain it, and all the difficulties of getting it into the van, out again and into the house.

“We’ll need that wheelchair ramp and must work out where we’ll put the thing once it’s here,” said Russell.

“And presumably we’ll have to place it with a nice garden view, so the chap trapped in it has something to look at,” said Charlie.

Sam was surprised that the house was so empty when he arrived, but Richard explained that Russell and Charlie would shortly be arriving with an iron lung they’d purchased in France. “We’ll all be needed to unload it from the van and get it into the house,” said Richard, “and then we’ll have to see if it works.”

“As a double hook user, even though I’ll be pretending, it will be a test if I can be useful,” said Sam. “So far, it’s not been difficult, but I know I’ve not faced any real challenges.”

The iron lung was larger than Richard expected—a great metal monster which proved unco‑operative when being moved. They had picked out a small room on the ground floor with a view of part of the garden for the lung, and as soon as it was in position, they plugged it in and switched it on. With a great wheezing and puffing, the monster came alive.

“All the pressure dials appear to be working,” said Russell, “so I’m ready to be put into it.”

“Are you sure about this?” said Richard. “You’ve just got back from France.”

“What’s that got to with anything?” grinned Russell. “The chaps who went down with the polio virus didn’t choose when they’d be put into an iron lung, they had no warning, so I can’t see a reason for me to delay.”

“I’ll sleep on a mattress in the room for tonight,” said Charlie, “in case anything goes wrong with the lung.”

Russell vanished to his flat and returned naked in his dressing gown. They pulled out the stretcher-like flat bed and Russell shed his gown and climbed on. A few minutes later he was sealed into the machine and was forced to adjust his breathing to match the surprisingly noisy movement of the bellows just beyond his feet. He also had to adjust to his speech being controlled by the machine.

“Bloody hell,” he said, “the last bugger that ….. laid in this thing ….. was in here for sixty years ….. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“If you like, we can leave you there for a very long time,” said Richard, “except that I don’t think we can be without our cook for more than a month.”

It was agreed that Charlie would watch over Russell for the first night but after that first night, he would be left entirely alone coping with the extreme bondage of the iron lung. Sam suggested that he would take on duties for feeding him during the day. “That will be a novelty,” said Russell, “being fed by a man with hooks.”

Valentine hadn’t said much during this time, but now joined in. “I hope you realise it will be mainly my cooking for the time Russell’s stuck in that machine. A month from now, you’ll be jolly pleased his time is up, and he can get back to the kitchen.”

Gradually the month passed for Russell. He loved his time in the lung, and as he counted the days until his release, he felt reluctant to leave the security of the great breathing machine. Sam’s trial month finished at the same time that Russell came out of the lung. The whole house was delighted to have their expert cook back in the kitchen, and Sam knew he wanted to enrol as a permanent resident.

Charlie was especially pleased to have Russell back in his bed, and although it took Russell a full day in a hot bath to regain full movement of his limbs, he told his lover that, “One day, I’ll go back in, and this time it will be for much longer—perhaps six months.”

By wearing his hooks all day and carrying out a number of chores in the house, Sam began to forget that he had hands. He sat with Richard one evening and said, “You know, I’m ready for my amputations. I really want to get rid of the discomfort of having them squashed into these pretender hooks. If you will have me, I’d like to be your first full resident. I can give notice to quit my job as an early retiree, and I can sell my house easily. I’d like to bring a few personal things, but not a lot.”

Richard was pleased but said that there would have to be a meeting of all four of the team before Sam would be offered a permanent place. They gathered in the little room around Russell’s iron lung, but the decision was quick and easy. “We all like him,” said Russell, “and he’s been brilliant looking after me. He’s getting very good with his hooks and will be an asset helping with residents’ needs as well as what he can offer of his financial skills.”

With unanimous agreement, Sam was offered a place in the community. His house sold quickly, giving him the means to embark upon the journey to Mexico and get his hands cut off.

Whilst Sam was away, Richard had the next serious enquiry for a residential place. “I’ve used a wheelchair for about ten years,” wrote Roy, “and have pretended to have suffered a spinal injury. Sadly, it’s all been pretence. If I can find a way to get my spine severed, I’d achieve the paralyzed body I’ve been dreaming of for all these years. My long-time partner has got fed up with my pretending and has left me. I’m retired and did not expect to find myself living alone at this time of life. I’m quite gregarious and hate living alone. I’d love to apply for a place in the community, and perhaps you can even find a way of getting my spine operated on.”

Richard took Charlie to meet Roy at the Park Plaza. It was obvious that Roy was a very experienced wheeler, but Richard was curious how much different it would be for Roy to deal with the reality of a spinal injury.

“There’s a very great deal that would be different and much more challenging,” admitted Roy. “There’s the loss of bladder and arsehole control for a start, and there will be the whole removal of the ‘cheating’ which happens now. I know at the end of the day I can stand up to get into bed. That won’t be possible, nor any of the other little ways a pretender cheats. And it’s that totality of being disabled that I long for; I hate being a pretender.”

Roy was accepted for a month’s trial, and arrived, as expected, in his wheelchair. No-one at the house ever saw Roy stand, although they knew he probably did stand in the privacy of his room. After some hesitation, Richard phoned Sam in Mexico.

“Hi Sam, how’s it going?”

“Richard, I didn’t expect to hear from you. My hands were amputated three days ago, and the initial pain is wearing off. I’m still heavily bandaged and haven’t seen my stumps yet, and I’m looking forward to that.”

“Sam,” said Richard, “I need a favour. Can you ask your surgeon how he feels about severing someone’s spine. We have a potential resident who wants to become a spinal injury. He’s been pretending for years but wants the reality of severe disability. You’ll like him when you meet him. I think he’ll be a good member of our community.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Sam, “I can’t predict what the surgeon will say, but for the right fee I expect him to be co-operative.”

Sam came home to Fulfilment Lodge on the same day that Roy arrived to start his trial. Richard was glad that the ramp at the front door, and the spacious lift, had been installed at the time of the renovation. With a fulltime wheeler in the house, they had become essential.

Sam had good news for Roy. “The surgeon will sever your spine—for a handsome fee of course. He wanted me to remind you that it’s as final as an amputation. Just as I will never have hands again, so you will never stand up again, nor be able to do any of the normal body functions.”

“That’s exactly why I want to get the operation,” said Roy.

“Apparently, he’ll keep you in the local hotel, where I was last week, for as much as a month, to monitor the changes to your metabolism after your spine is cut. I understand that there are lots of hidden changes to your body caused by the paralysis.”

“I’ll be happy for that,” said Roy.

Richard and Valentine were talking in bed that evening. “We’re lucky that so far we have recruited some very nice people to come and live here. Will our luck last, or will we offer a trial month to someone we can’t stand?” said Richard.

“I had not realised that our residents would all be older,” said Valentine. “It seems it’s only older men who have thought through the implications of choosing a permanently disabled lifestyle, and I suppose with that maturity comes an understanding of what it takes be become part of a community such as ours. It seems we are becoming a retirement home.”

“If a very young man applied wanting a very extreme modification to his body, which would leave him severely disabled for life, would it be OK to accept him?”

“Have you had an enquiry from a young man?” said Valentine.

“Yes,” said Richard, “he’s only 21, and he wants to become limbless.”

“You mean become a torso, with no arms or legs?”

“Yes,” said Richard, “total amputation of all vestiges of arms, even removing his shoulder blades, and of his whole legs leaving him with his pelvis, but nothing beyond.”

“Let’s meet him in London, and if he’s really thought about this, give him a longer trial than usual; perhaps three months living here without any use of arms or legs,” said Valentine.

“We’ll see if the others agree, and if they do, we’ll meet him.”

Craig arrived at the Park Plaza in a ‘transit’ wheelchair, pushed by a young man who turned out to be his older brother. Both young men were very handsome: Craig a skinny blond, and Warren, his brother, bulkier, and sporting a bushy beard and shaved head. Craig sat with his arms at his sides, his hands under his thighs.

“I cannot remember a time when I wanted to keep my arms and legs,” said Craig. “Warren’s known about this for years, and over time has come around to supporting and encouraging me.”

“I know it’s right for my brother. I hope he will live to a ripe old age, and I believe he genuinely wants to spend the next sixty or more years as a torso. Neither of us understands where this has come from as we don’t know anyone who is completely without limbs.”

“But we’ve seen many beautiful men in You-tube films and other channels on the internet,” said Craig.

“We left home when Craig was only sixteen and he told our parents about his desire, and of course that we’re both gay. The combination of homosexuality and amputation was too much for them to cope with and there were some huge rows,” said Warren. “I was nineteen at the time, and old enough to get a place of my own. I had a dead-end job, but it paid the bills. At home living with me at my place after leaving school, Craig has lived as much as we can manage without use of arms and legs. You see he has a transit chair which means he has no way to move himself just as it would be if he had no arms or legs.”

“I’d love to have a chair with some kind of suck-and-sip control,” said Craig, “but money has been very tight and big sophisticated power chairs cost a fortune.”

Warren continued. “Of course, we don’t have any money, but the little we know about your community suggests that we might fit in, and perhaps you’d find a way to pay for Craig’s amputations.”

Richard spoke quickly. “You said ‘we’. Are you suggesting that you’d both like to come to the community.”

“Yes of course,” said Warren. “When Craig is a torso, he will need help with everything, so I’d come to be his personal assistant.” Warren hesitated and looked at the floor. “And there is another thing.”

Craig said, “We must obviously be fully truthful for you to understand us. We are lovers as well as brothers, and we want to spend our whole lives as lovers.”

“That’s quite an admission,” said Valentine, “but I suppose there’s nothing to stop brothers having sex. It certainly solves the problem of Craig’s personal care if he came to live at the community.”

“I must ask a very direct question, Warren,” said Richard. “Are you quite sure that it’s completely Craig’s desire to become limbless, and not you persuading him because you’re turned on by sex with a limbless man?”

The two young men laughed. “We said you’d ask that,” said Craig, “and I want you to know that I am the one who has the deep desire for amputation. I know how I want to be for the rest of my life, and my brother has shown great love for me in encouraging me and saying he’d love me however many limbs I have.”

Richard and Valentine were beginning think that the two young men would fit in very well at Fulfilment Lodge.

“Mind you,” continued Craig, “I bet the sex will be terrific once my limbs are all gone.”

Richard looked at Valentine, who smiled and nodded. “Let’s offer a trial place for a month.”

“Not three?” said Richard.

“No,” said Valentine, “we’ll know within the month.”

“OK,” said Richard. “Now you need to know how your trial will work. We will give you a room to share, and what goes on with the door closed will be your business. However, outside your room, Craig will live permanently without use of his arms or legs, and you, Warren, will be his full-time carer. Can you offer anything towards the cost of your board and lodging?”

“I have meagre savings,” said Warren, “but we can’t offer much. I was hoping that I could get some part-time work to make a small contribution, and I’d like to get some training as a professional carer.”

“We have been thinking about recruiting some kind of nurse/carer,” said Richard. Most of our residents need help at various times, and as they get older that’s likely to increase.” We’ll employ you on a small salary to work as a carer in the Lodge, and you’ll have full responsibility for your brother’s care and will help with other residents when they need it.”

On the train home, Valentine said, “well that was unexpected. I liked them both, and I think Warren will be very useful.”

“I wonder how long it will be before he wants some modification himself,” said Richard. “Working with such a range of cripples is sure to make his mind turn that way.”

“Speaking of which,” said Valentine, “I’ve made up my mind. I would like to be LAK, with a very high amputation of my left leg, and need to use crutches.”

“I knew you’d say something like that,” said Richard, “and the time has come for my disability to advance. With your help, I’m going to get a pair of KAFO’s with ischial rings.”

“Explain what that is,” said Valentine.

“Long leg steel braces from ankle to groin, with a ring under my pelvis taking most of my weight. My legs will be totally stiff and straight in the braces when I stand, and I’ll need at first crutches to help with balance.”

“So we’ll both become crutch users,” said Valentine.

“Except you’ll be able to leap out of bed, whilst I’ll be stuck there waiting for you to strap my braces on, as I’ve no chance of doing it myself in my Milwaukee.”

When they got home, they called everyone together. “I need your approval for what’s going to happen,” explained Richard. “I think all permanent residents should be involved in future developments. We’ve just interviewed two very nice young men who are both lovers and brothers. Craig is only 21 years old and wants to become limbless; Warren is his brother and is 24. The plan is for them both to live here as lovers, and I’ve offered Warren a job as nurse-carer. He will have a lot to do to cope with his brother when he has no arms or legs, but he’ll also be available for anyone else who needs personal help.”

Sam spoke first. “It will be good to have some younger people around, and I for one know that I will be pleased to get help sometimes.”

The others nodded.

Roy was anxious to go to Mexico to get his spinal operation and was adamant that he would be able to go and return alone. “I’ve pretended in a wheelchair for ages, and many times flown on holiday as a wheeler,” he said. “I don’t see that I need anyone with me.” Sam had spent some time with Roy telling him all about the hospital and hotel where he would be living for a month, and Charlie took him to the airport.

With the number of residents increasing, they decided to buy a minibus with a wheelchair lift making it possible for the whole community to go on day trips or longer if they wanted to.  Valentine was keen to be one of the drivers and told the others of his plan to become one-legged, thus requiring the minibus to be an automatic.

Without Roy, and before Craig and Warren arrived, Russel persuaded them to lock him back in the iron lung for a while. “I’d like it to be for several months,” said Russell, “but I know I can’t be away from the kitchen for too long.”

When Warren and Craig arrived, they were introduced to Russell who was trapped in the lung. Russell explained that he would love to be in it for a prolonged experience, but that he was also the community’s cook. Warren had a helpful suggestion. “I can cook quite well,” said Warren. “It’s all self-taught and pretty basic home cooking, but I think I can hold the fort to give Russel some extra time in the iron lung if that’s what he wants.”

“You mean, just as I thought I was getting out, my time is unexpectedly extended,” said Russell, “very like the situation faced by real iron lung users.”

“It seems you’re stuck in there for all of Warren and Craig’s trial period, and then more than that, until they go to Mexico for Craig’s amputations,” said Charlie. “I suppose I’d better get used to sleeping alone again. I lie in bed thinking of you down here trapped in that wheezing machine, day and night, day after day, and now it’s for a completely unknown length of time.”

Roy was gone for six weeks and returned a changed man. “I asked for my spine to be severed quite high up,” he explained, “knowing that it would affect my arms and hands. I can tell you that the result is quite unlike the days of pretending. I can move my hands, but it’s not easy. I don’t have any grip any more. I am truly very disabled now, far more than I expected.”

“Are you regretting it?” asked Richard.

“No, of course not,” replied Roy, “I’m loving it. Coping with the everyday challenges of being a high spinal injury is for me absolutely wonderful, and it’s made every day a difficulty and a challenge. I’m more disabled than I expected to be, and I’m delighted. I suppose that’s hard for everyone to understand.”

“Not at all,” said Craig. “We are all here because we love the challenges of having changed and imperfect bodies. I’m looking forward to being as disabled as possible, thanks to coming to live in this amazing community.”

Richard asked Warren and Craig to come into his office for a conversation. “It’s clear that you love one another very much,” he started, “and thus I believe that you, Warren, are ready to take on the challenge of your brother. I’m also aware that we’ve never seen your hands, Craig, and that you’ve lived as if you had no arms or legs.  I’m pleased to tell you that we are willing to pay for your trip to Mexico to get the amputations you desire. Today I need a final statement from you Craig. You have asked to become totally limbless, arms and shoulder blades removed, and legs taken completely out of your pelvis. You can have a life here at Fulfilment Lodge, living as a total torso if that’s what you want. Are you still certain you want to go ahead?”

“Absolutely certain,” nodded Craig.

“And I am completely ready for my brother and lover to undergo this quadruple amputation, and I pledge to care for him for the rest of his life,” said Warren.

“Very well gentlemen: I will contact the surgeon and discuss the situation and agree a date for your operation.”

“You’ve seen how happy Roy is with his greater disability following his spinal surgery,” said Craig. “I will be similarly pleased once my arms and legs are gone.”

“Very well,” said Richard, “prepare yourselves for a trip to Mexico within a month. And now I shall tell Russell that he can’t stay in the lung any longer and must come out as soon as we know the date of your flight. I shan’t tell him how soon it will be, to give him the thrill of the unknown.”

Meanwhile Richard had received an enquiry from another couple with a very straight-forward request.

“We are Tony and Simon,” said the email, “and we have been married for several years. We have both recently retired and would like to live as Siamese twins. Although a surgical option remains very unlikely, we’d like to join your community and will spend the rest of our days tightly bound together. Of course, should any kind of surgical possibility arise, we’d jump at the chance. We have both had long professional careers, and have a large property which we will sell, giving the proceeds to the community if you will have us. We also have significant pensions with which we can give generously for our upkeep. By the way, we’ve often been told that we look very alike, almost like twins, so we’ll make a very convincing Siamese couple.”

With Russell still in the iron lung, Sam waiting for his hooks and Roy still coming to terms with his extreme disability, Richard prepared to travel with Valentine to the London hotel. His leg braces had arrived only a few days before, and he was still struggling to walk with his crutches. Valentine said, “I could take Charlie with me to London if it’s too difficult for you.” But Richard was adamant. “This is how I want to be, and the London trip will be a steep learning curve. I’m determined to do it.”

Previously they had walked from Waterloo to the hotel, but this time Richard admitted he wasn’t yet proficient enough with his new way of walking, and they took a taxi. “One day I’ll be able to walk that far,” he said.

“But not yet,” said Valentine. “Those new leg braces are far more disabling than I expected. Just like your Milwaukee, you’ve had the heaviest steel bars possible. They’ve increased your weight almost as much as the Milwaukee did.”

“Most of my weight is carried by my pelvis on the ischial rings,” said Richard. “My legs are almost hanging inside the steel of the braces. I love how crippled I am now, but it will take a while to build up the strength and skill to learn to live like this.”

Tony and Simon were waiting in the foyer of the hotel. Valentine and Richard recognised them immediately: they did indeed look like twins and were dressed identically. They stood close together and shook hands. “We have a suite upstairs,” said Richard, “where we can meet in private. I’m sorry, but it’s going to take me a little longer than usual to walk to the lift.”

In the lift, Valentine said, “Gosh, you two do look alike. Are you sure you’re not related?”

Tony (or was it Simon?) replied. “I think it was part of our early attraction. We were together as teenagers and have never been apart except for going to work. We actually had very similar jobs in the city and have grown more and more together. Since retiring, we’ve become more and more fixated on becoming con-joined, but we realised we could never do this in normal society. Finding out about your community has given us hope, and if you’ll have us, we can become the one con-joined person we need to be.”

In the privacy of Richard’s suite, the two sat very close, with Tony’s left arm around Simon’s waist and Simon’s right arm around Tony.

“Have you tried to live as con-joined at home?” said Richard.

“Oh yes,” said Simon (or was it Tony?), “but only at weekends. We’ve created a complicated arrangement of webbing to keep us held together, and we’ve made some special clothes to wear when we are joined although we’d need to get a lot more items made if we are to fulfil our dream.”

“We’ve brought a jacket to show you,” said Tony, pulling a bulky item from a large briefcase. Simon put his left arm into one sleeve, and Tony put his right arm in the other. A large flap of fabric passed over their shoulder and hid completely their inner arms.

“That’s pretty convincing,” said Richard. “Is that the kind of thing you’d wear all the time?”

“Yes,” said Simon. “As you can see, it’s a very specialised item of clothing, and we’d need quite a few modified clothes.”

“We hope you don’t find it too outrageous,” said Tony, “but we’d like one arm each amputated, so without shoulders our heads would be much closer.”

“We intend to wear our webbing completely full time. We’d not take it off to go to bed, which is how we always sleep at home. It took a lot of perseverance, but we were determined, and now I cannot imagine sleeping without my lover tightly bound to me. The webbing is also waterproof, so we shower together without separating.”

On the train back to Wareham, Richard reflected on their achievements so far. “I’m so pleased that we are doing what we set out to do. I think we are genuinely living up to our name of Fulfilment Lodge. Each of our residents is rejoicing in fulfilling their dream.”

“I’ve been very impressed by the dedication, the single-minded dedication shown by everybody,” said Valentine. “Sam is so happy to live without hands—it will be exciting to see his developing skills with his hooks, and Roy is much more crippled than expected, and loving every moment of his challenging life.”

“I wasn’t expecting that we’d have a wannabe torso living with us—it will be a challenge for us all when Craig returns from Mexico,” said Richard. “I imagined men who wanted to wear braces, and I expected amputees. I never in my wildest dreams expected Siamese twins.”

“If we accept Tony and Simon, and they go ahead and have one arm removed, I could go with them and get my left leg off,” said Valentine.

“You’ll have to wait for their trial month,” said Richard, “and probably wait for Warren and Craig to come home, so that Warren can strap me into my leg braces each morning. I’d like it if we get another brace wearer, someone who understands why I love to be so fully braced.”

Whilst they waited for Craig to come home, the house was quietly ticking over. Russell continued to hanker after more time in the iron lung, but the rest of them demanded that they needed his cookery skills. It was around that time whilst they were waiting for Craig, that Richard got another email from a younger man, with an unusually extreme desire.

“I’ve heard that you offer residential opportunities for gay men with overwhelming desires to live as fully disabled people. I know that my desire is not only extreme, but also very unlikely to be possible. I’m desperate to spend the rest of my life sealed into an iron lung. I know there are very few left in the world, but if you knew how to get one, I’d willingly pay for it, hoping you’d let me live at your house permanently in a lung.” The email was signed by Michael, usually called Mike, and he said his age was 20.

With Sam anxious to show off his new hooks, and Richard struggling to adjust to his leg braces and ischial rings, Valentine decided to go to London with Sam, to interview Mike. It would be the first time Richard had not been involved in the interview for a new resident.

Mike arrived at the Park Plaza wearing a pair of long-leg braces and walking with crutches. Valentine was blunt. “We didn’t expect you to be braced,” he said, “tell us about it.”

“I’ve been obsessed with being disabled since I was a small child. We had an elderly neighbour who walked with braces and walking sticks, and when he died, I begged his wife, who I knew very well, and called Auntie, to let me have his braces. When I put them on, I got the biggest erection of my life, and I’ve worn them almost every day since. But it’s not enough, it’s only a little way down the path of being disabled that I want to go. I want to go much further. I’ve made a collection of photographs of iron lungs, and seen a few videos, although there aren’t many on the internet, and every time I see a video, or just look at a photo, I know that’s what I want.”

Sam liked young Mike but was worried to know if he was really aware of the long-term implication of what he was asking. “Look at me,” he said, “some months ago, I had both of my hands cut off. I know that as long as I live, I’ll never have hands again. I will always rely on hooks like these to get through the day, but it’s what I wanted and I know I will never regret it. Are you sure you’ll never regret being sealed into an iron lung?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” said Mike. “The only trouble is that I know it’s very unlikely to happen.”

“On the contrary,” said Valentine. “We have an iron lung at the house. One of our group has already spent quite a lot of time in it. If you are truly wanting a lifetime in a lung, we can give that to you.”

Mike was astonished. “You have an iron lung?” he almost choked as he spoke. “You mean it might be possible for me…..”

Sam smiled. “We’ll offer you a trial month. You come and live in the iron lung and we’ll see if you like living with us and we have to see if we like living with you.”

“How soon can I come?” said Mike, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve dreamed of this every day of my life but did not dare to think that it would come true. I’m just 20 years old, and if I get put in a lung soon, I can hope to spend sixty or seventy years in it.”

“You realise that after some time spent lying on your back, you will be unable to sit up if you ever leave the lung?” said Valentine. “Your heart will not be able to pump blood around your body once it’s got used to keeping you alive laying flat on your back?”

“Yes,” said Mike, “but that situation won’t arise. Once I’m sealed in, I’m there for life, and won’t ever sit up again. There’s another thing as well,” he went on, “after years of the machine breathing for me, I don’t know, but I may lose the ability to breathe on my own—but again we’ll never know as I’ll never leave the machine and never try to breath on my own ever again. It’s giving my breathing to a machine which is a very important part of what I want.”

“You can start your trial month almost immediately,” said Valentine.

“I need to give them a week’s notice at work, and I think a week will be enough to quit my flat….”

“Steady on,” cried Valentine, “it’s only a trial period. If it doesn’t work out between us, you’ll need your flat to come home to.”

“I understand,” said Mike, “so perhaps its rushing it a bit to quit my flat; but I’ll have to leave work, they won’t give me a month off, but it will be OK as I’m only a shelf packer at Tesco’s.”

“So you’ve little money?” said Sam.

“No,” replied Mike, “I’m hoping for a charity to pay my costs. Will that be a problem?”

“The community was set up to provide a safe and permanent home for gay men with particular needs. Some are able to give very generously when they move in as they have property they can sell. Others might come with little or no assets. It’s more to do with us liking you and you liking us than anything else,” said Valentine.

“I appreciate that,” said Mike, “and hope you take me. It’s a totally unexpected opportunity, one that will never arise again in my life. Oh—please let it be that I can come and live with you!”

When Sam and Valentine got home, they reported to the whole community that they would shortly be joined by a young man who wanted to spend his life in the iron lung. “I’m afraid it might mean the end of your ‘short’ periods in the lung, Russell, as this chap Mike, if we have him, intends to stay in it permanently.”

Richard was concerned. “If he comes, it will be the most extreme of any of our residents. I’d like you all to spend plenty of time with this young man, so that we can be very sure that he really knows what he asking for. I thought Craig’s desire to be limbless was pretty challenging, but this Mike is a huge step further even than Craig.”

From being rather quiet, the house was suddenly much busier. Tony and Simon arrived and everyone had to adjust to the sight of the con-joined twins; then Craig and Warren came home from Mexico and they had to cope with the tiny torso which was all that was left of Craig; and then Mike arrived.

Mike stepped out of the taxi dragging a huge and extremely heavy suitcase. “Whatever has he brought?” said Richard watching from his office window.

“Goodness knows,” replied Valentine. “I’ll go and meet him.”

As planned, Mike was escorted directly to the small ground floor room where the iron lung was waiting for him. Richard, who had never met Mike, crutched to the room to supervise Mike being put into the iron lung. Mike explained that the huge suitcase contained pillow cases and large tubes of sand. Valentine and Warren, who were getting Mike into the lung remained mystified.

Mike stripped naked, and Warren helped him onto the gurney. “Now,” said Mike, “please put two of the big weights, the tubes of sand, into a pillow and place it over my arm one weight on either side, so that I cannot move my arm.” They did as he asked. “Now do the same with the other arm and with my legs. There’s two pillows and four weights for each leg. Please place one high up over my thigh, and the other over my lower leg.” They weighted him as he requested. “I’ve tried out this system at home, and I can sleep very happily and soundly like this. Many thanks everyone. Now I am ready. Please push me into the lung and turn on the pressure. Oh, and pleased destroy the clothes I arrived in. I’ve brought no others, but as I don’t intend to ever leave this lung, I will have no need for clothes, or indeed any possessions.”

Richard had watched this whole procedure with growing concern. He shook his head. “He’ll never sustain this for a week,” he thought, “how could he imagine he’d live his whole life like this?” He called Valentine for a word outside the room. “Put the clothes in a bag, but don’t destroy them; I don’t think this is going to work—he’ll be out of there before the end of the month.” He crutched back to his study.

Russell arrived and placed a chair close to Mike’s head. He introduced himself and explained that he was not only the community cook, but that he had spent several months in the lung himself. “I loved it,” he said, “I love that feeling of the machine controlling breathing, and the peacefulness of being in the lung. I hope you will enjoy it as much, and that the thrill of being so completely trapped and locked remains for ever and ever just as it feels so wonderful for you now.”

“My first task,” said Mike, “will be to learn to read.”

“Can’t you read?” said Russell, puzzled.

“Yes, I could before I came into the lung, but now my world consists only of what I can see in my mirror. If you set up a stand behind my head with a book on it, I’m looking at it through my mirror, and thus it’s back to front. In the future, I want to be able to read as easily as I could before I was sealed in, but it will have to be learning from scratch like a child. I determined to master mirror reading until I’m completely fluent; and then I’ll have a skill no-one else has got. Presumably after a time my brain will forget how to read in the conventional way.”

Back in his office, with the worry of Mike hanging around him, Richard found another email. He read it with increasing credulity. With one man locked in the lung, with a very doubtful future, he was challenged by another even stranger request.

“My name is Andy, and I am called a “Little”. Although I am actually 30 years old, I need to live my life as a toddler of about 18 months. I live like this at home at weekends and some evenings, but I really want to live as a full-time “little”. I have lots of large-size toddler clothes and like to sleep in a large size cot.  I wear nappies (diapers) full time and have trained myself to be incontinent. When in “little” mode, I do not use language, and spend a lot of time with my dummy (pacifier) in my mouth. I have a big collection of soft toys that I sleep with. I hope you will let me come to live in your community, where I can live a happy life as a full-time toddler.”

After Valentine had read the email, Richard said, “He seems genuine enough, but I’m not at all sure. Could we really cope with a 30-year-old man crawling around the place and drooling?”

Valentine said, “Let’s meet him and see, but I share your doubts.”

Warren wheeled Craig in to see Mike; Russell and Charlie visited him together; Sam arrived to feed Mike who had to get used to his food arriving on one of Sam’s hooks; Tony and Simon visited him; Roy pushed himself in his wheelchair to inspect the new arrival and worked with Warren and Craig giving Mike reading lessons; and Richard and Valentine made regular visits.

At the end of the first week, it was clear that Mike wasn’t likely to change his mind; and as they approached the end of his trial month, he was reassuring them all of his intention to stay put. He asked Richard to write to his landlord giving notice of quitting his flat, and with Valentine sitting next to him with a laptop, he transferred all his savings into the Fulfilment account.

Richard had to admit that his instinct had been wrong with Mike. The young man was clearly loving his lifestyle, and becoming a popular friend to everyone who visited him. His world was reduced to what he could see in his mirror, and he seemed very content with that.

Meanwhile Richard and Valentine had been to London to meet Andy, the man who wanted to be treated as an adult baby. He had turned out to be a very demanding and insolent man, who was willing to invest heavily in the Lodge, but who in return expected to be waited on full-time and his every childish whim catered for. It was not just the idea of coping with a big toddler around the place that alarmed Richard and Valentine, but also they felt that the man’s attitude and behaviour would never fit into the peaceful and happy lives of the other residents. Andy was the first applicant they refused to offer a trial to.

They also turned down an application from a man who wanted to be grossly enormous. “He just wants to eat himself to death,” said Richard. “I think I can understand the most extreme physical desires for disability, and I suppose being grossly gigantic is disabling. I am probably more tolerant than most people, but I cannot deal with a man whose passion will lead him to killing himself. It would be like condoning suicide.”

After the adult-baby and the gross-eater, it was refreshing to Richard to get an applicant who simply wanted to be a brace wearer, although the brace he described was an extreme type, unusual but known to Richard. “I have a Perthes Brace,” wrote Mo, “and I wear it around my flat, but never outside. I’ve run a successful hairdressing business, and if I could move into a community of like-minded disabled people, and disabled pretenders, I could sell both my business and my flat, giving me plenty of capital to bring to the community.”

“This is more like it,” said Richard. “This is someone on the right wavelength, although it’s quite extreme for an adult to want to wear a Perthes Brace. They used to be prescribed for teenagers and children, and then only rarely. We’ll meet him and tell him he’s to come to the interview wearing the brace.”

“Take Warren with you for a day out,” said Valentine. “I’m sure he’d like a break from his duties in the house, and spending the day closely with you will be a very good way of getting to know your needs. Tony and Simon have fitted in so well, and we’re all used to seeing them around the place. They are anxious to each get one arm removed, and I’m desperate to go with them to get my left leg off. Whilst I’m gone, it will be Warren who straps you into your leg braces every day.”

“Three new amputees all at once,” smiled Richard. “I think you will be a wonderful one-legger my love, and I have become very attached to Tony and Simon and will be pleased to see them take another step in their con-joined journey.”

Richard and Warren liked Mo when they met him. He explained that he was of mixed parentage, and was actually called Mohammed, but since he had been thrown out of his family home for coming out gay, he always been called “Mo”. He arrived for the interview at the Park Plaza wearing his Perthes brace. Richard had never seen one being worn before, and Warren had no idea what it was. Mo grinned as he explained. “My left leg is hanging in a kind of cage, with all my weight on an ischial ring under my pelvis. I cannot put any weight onto my left leg whilst in the brace, and my weight is transferred by heavy steel pylons into the ferule you can see. To cope with the extra height needed for the brace, I have a seven-inch lift on my right boot.”

Unless someone knew a great deal about specialist braces, anyone observing Mo walking would assume he had a wooden peg leg on the left, as all that showed at the bottom of his left trouser leg was a very big black rubber ferrule; and his grotesque built-up right boot was very like the most extreme of boots provided in years gone by for extreme club feet.

“Your brace is similar to my braces,” said Richard, “but is your left foot actually just hanging inside your trousers?”

“Yes,” said Mo, smiling again. “If I can come to live in your community, I’d be able to wear it all day every day, and I hope the muscles in my left leg would atrophy.”

“You don’t need crutches?” said Richard.

“No, but I’ve a walking stick just for longer walks or when I’m tired.”

“You say you’ve a business and a flat you could sell if you came to live with us,” said Warren.

“Yes,” said Mo. “Financially it’s just like taking early retirement and moving into a retirement home. Of course, I know it’s very different from the usual type of retirement home, and I’m sure you have residents who are much younger than I.” He smiled broadly, then continued, “I imagine your residents have various kinds of voluntary mobility issues which may make them unwilling to go to the local barber’s shop? I’ll bring the skills of being a hairdresser to the community, giving ‘in-house’ services to save the challenges of going to a local shop. And I always accompany my hairdressing by giving my best opera arias!”

“That’s an unexpected bonus,” said Warren, “and you have indeed realised that some of our friends at the Lodge have chosen quite extreme modifications which make some aspects of going out in public very daunting.”

Richard was very attracted to Mo and felt his sunny personality and altogether jolly attitude would enhance the community. He felt able to offer a trial place immediately, and asked Mo if he would like to join the community soon.

“I will promote my senior stylist to manage my business,” he said, “and prepare to sell my flat. Between the two I should have almost a million to bring to the community to live on, so it should work out OK financially.”

“I notice that you are wearing long baggy trousers,” said Richard, “but I hope you’ll like to wear shorts around the house. The residents like to see our equipment: it’s a part of life at Fulfilment Lodge to be very aware of what’s going on for everyone.”

Mo looked closely at Richard. “May I ask, is that a Milwaukee you are wearing?”

“Yes,” said Richard, “it’s an old-fashioned style with very heavy steel, I had it constructed with a much heavier and wider steel collar than on a conventional brace. I’m also wearing a pair of KAFO’s with ischial rings on both legs as I already mentioned. I’ve been in the Milwaukee 24/7 for nearly two years and worn my KAFO’s daily for nearly a year. I can’t walk without crutches, and don’t seem to be making much progress towards not needing them.”

“My Perthes was made by Veteran Braces in North London,” said Mo. “Where did you get your equipment?”

“From the same place,” said Richard. “I’m sure we must have worked with the same orthotist.”

On the train home, Warren was reflective. “I’ve realised that if Mo comes to live with us, that will leave only one spare room. The community is nearly full.”

“I hope his singing won’t annoy the others,” said Richard.

“I doubt it,” said Warren. “After all there’s only so many haircuts he can give in such a small group of men.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” said Richard, “to see all these gay men living the lives they desire and becoming great friends together.”

“It’s good to feel so safe and secure, and at the same time everyone can be themselves. I understand Valentine’s about to go to Mexico with Tony and Simon. How do you feel about your partner becoming one-legged?”

“I’ll be delighted,” said Richard. “I know he wants very much to be an amputee and he’s very keen to be a crutch user. He’s a lovely man and I love him very much. It will be great to have a partner nearly as disabled as I am.”

Mo arrived at Fulfilment Lodge wearing his Perthes brace. “I’ve never worn it in such a public way,” he said, “on the train and everything. Of course, it doesn’t have any kind of hinge at the knee, so I have to sit with my left leg straight out in front. It wasn’t so easy on the train, but that’s the least of the difficulties I’ll face.”

Richard was enormously relieved that so far every one of the people he had invited to live at Fulfilment Lodge had turned out to be friendly; as a community, it was remarkable how happy they all were, and how much they enjoyed each other’s company. They could also openly enjoy their own chosen disability, and of course admire and enjoy the challenges faced by other residents. Mo fitted right in, and very soon it seemed as if he had been there a long time. It was a shock at the end of a month to realise that he had only been living there on a trial basis, and the residents were unanimous that they wanted him to move in with them as soon as possible.

Mo sold his business and flat in a few short weeks, and was soon back amongst the friends, providing very generous funds for the running of the place. There was a lull in applications, which gave the community time to get used to Valentine permanently on crutches with his very high left-leg amputation; and for Tony and Simon to learn to live with four legs but just one arm each, tightly strapped into their permanent webbing, and moving as one around the place.

When Mo returned to take up his permanent place, it became apparent that he would become the self-appointed director of activities. “You’ve shown me a lovely little cinema in the basement, but you’ve hardly used it. I think we should designate one night a week as film night. I’m happy to organise the films if you tell me which ones you’d like to see.”

This was a welcomed development, but little did they know that Mo had a much more exciting proposal up his sleeve. “I’ve been looking around and discovered a great arts centre in Poole called the Lighthouse. They have great plays and concerts and it’s the base of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. You’ve got a very nice minibus, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t become regular attendees for concerts and plays. What’s more, the whole place is fully accessible.”

Most were enthusiastic, although Tony and Simon did not feel ready to go out in the world as con-joined twins. “We’ll stay at home on concert evenings,” they said, “and keep Mike company.”

Mike was told about the trips to Poole and realised that he would never do such a thing. “I’m very accepting that my voluntary imprisonment in my iron lung means I’ll never go out on minibus trips to concerts, or indeed any other kind of trip. For me, being deprived of such experiences is part of the thrill I get from being sealed in this machine,” he said. “I suppose it’s a kind of masochism, but it’s the source of my satisfaction.”

Mo organised the first trip, and Valentine agreed to drive the minibus. They were joined by Sam, Roy, Warren and Craig, with Mo ensuring everyone was happy with the journey and arrangements for the concert. Russell and Charlie decided to have a quiet evening in their bedroom, but after much hesitation Richard decided to join the party.

The audience was beginning to arrive at the Wessex Hall, when the Fulfilment party arrived. Many members of the audience cast surreptitious glances at the party of cripples as they arrived. Mo led with his stiff legged gait, followed by Sam using his hooks to push Roy in his wheelchair, then came limbless Craig pushed by Warren, and finally one-legged Valentine on crutches accompanying Richard, with his essential crutches and his slow stiff braced gait. After the overture, Sam applauded with enthusiasm clashing his hooks together, and Craig showed his appreciation by nodding vigorously. The concert continued with a Beethoven symphony, and after the interval the highlight was Dvořák’s New World Symphony, which received a rapturous response from the whole audience.

“I think we were quite an eyeful for the audience,” said Richard in the bus coming home.

“There was at least one young man who couldn’t take his eyes off of us,” said Roy. “I remember being like that young man, just hypnotised by the sight of a cripple in a public place. You can be sure he’s an admirer or even a wannabe. Right now he’ll be at home furiously wanking over the sights he’s seen this evening and will have no memory of the music itself.”

“We’ve still got one empty room,” said Richard. “You never know, perhaps we’re fill that room from a contact we make at an event like tonight’s concert.”

“Not many young men will have the balls to come up and talk to us,” said Roy, “and the chances of there being a future gay voluntary cripple in a concert audience are not great.”

“We can just be happy that the sight of us brings some cheer to the hearts of some of the audience, who secretly admire the plight we’re in, and deep inside would love to be like one of us,” said Craig. “I remember before I came to live with you all, I was turned on just by seeing a young man in a wheelchair regardless of why he was using it. It was simply seeing someone young who was lucky enough to be in a chair for his whole life, that was exciting for me.”

“I had just the same feelings,” said Roy.

When they got back to the Lodge, they were greeted by Russell and Charlie who had made a great pan of cocoa for them all. They crowded into the kitchen for the cocoa and toasted Mo. “Well done,” said Richard, “I feel we are now a proper community. It’s been wonderful to enjoy a trip together.”

Mo replied, “I think we need to pour a drop of whiskey into this excellent cocoa! I am so grateful that you have brought me into your wonderful community. It really feels like home, and I never expected to find so many good friends.”

“What’s all this noise,” came unison voices from the doorway. The group turned and saw con-joined Tony and Simon grinning at them. “We smell cocoa! Is there enough for us?”

“Of course,” said Russell, “and someone had better take a cup to Mike.”

The next day everyone tried to stay in bed a little longer than usual but were stirred by a great shout from the hall. “Craig, Warren, come quickly,” shouted Russell, who had been in the kitchen starting the breakfast. “There’s a great box arrived addressed to Craig.”

Warren hurriedly pulled a loose jumper over naked Craig, dragged on his own dressing gown, and dumping Craig quickly into his wheelchair pushed him into the lift. In the hall there was a huge package, a great cube-shaped box. Craig was instantly very excited. “I know what this is,” he said, “open it quickly, please Warren.”

As Craig anticipated, the box contained his new electronic wheelchair complete with suck-and-sip controls.

“Put me in it,” Craig asked. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

Several others of the residents had gathered on the landing overlooking the excited torso sitting in his new wheelchair. “Hold it for a moment,” said Warren. “I think we should read the instructions before you demolish half the house.”

By lunchtime Craig was rushing around the garden, scrunching on gravel paths and revelling in being limbless and alone for the first time. Watching the level of the battery of his new chair, it was with some reluctance that he realised he had better come indoors and get it charged. He came up the ramp to the front door, then discovered that he couldn’t ring the bell to attract anyone’s attention. Eventually Warren noticed and let him in, laughing at his plight.

“I need some kind of a stick I can hold in my mouth,” said Craig, “so I can ring the front doorbell, and even more important with a mouth stick I could use the lift on my own.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” said Warren. Manoeuvring indoors was a lot trickier for Craig, and it would be several days before he felt confident judging doorways and negotiating furniture. He was particularly pleased, however, to find that with his mouth stick, he could get himself down to the basement to the cinema without help.

One day Richard said to Charlie, “you know, when we designed this place, we included a bondage dungeon downstairs, and we put in some basic equipment. It’s a pity it doesn’t get use very much.”

“That’s what you think,” said Charlie. “I know that one or two of our residents have spent some very happy nights chained up down there, restrained in the darkness. For some of them, it’s the thrill of escaping their mobility equipment only to find themselves unable to escape.”

“And I thought Valentine and I were the only ones enjoying the darkness down there. Mind you, I get Valentine to secure me without taking off my braces, and I’ve had a few good nights in the darkness,” said Richard.

“So have I,” said Charlie. “I suppose it just luck that we’ve never discovered one another down there.”

Warren and Russell were sitting together in the garden observing several of the residents moving around in the warm evening air. “Do you feel you’re missing out on something?” said Warren, “by being able-bodied?”

“Yes,” said Russell, “especially after spending several months in the iron lung. These friends of ours are all getting such fulfilment from their disabilities.”

“That’s why it’s called Fulfilment Lodge.”

“I’ve been thinking a great deal recently. I need something to give me the same thrill.”

“I’ve been thinking the same,” said Warren, “and I’m ready to talk to Richard about it.”

“Tell me more,” said Russell.

“I’m going to have my feet amputated below my knees and learn to walk on short pylons. I’ve been looking at videos for a long time, and I’d really like to be like that. Living with my brother, I want to know how it feels to have parts of your body cut off. If I keep my knees, I could walk on them sometimes, and other times have short pylons with plastic feet. I could even have more than one set of pylons of different lengths, and experience being various different heights.”

“You’ve been thinking this through, haven’t you?” said Russell.

“Yes I have; and I’m sure you have thought about yourself as well.”

“Yes,” said Russell, “but I’m not for amputation, it doesn’t turn me on like it does some people. No, it’s Richard’s situation I’m attracted to and I’d like to get a pair of long leg braces like his. I’m sure I could continue doing all I do now as the cook, but It would be an experience for me to have the morning routine of strapping myself into heavy braces. Somehow I feel I’d be more a member of the community.”

“If I get my amputations and you get fitted with braces, it will leave only your lover Charlie as the fully able-bodied member of the community,” said Warren.

“I know what he wants,” said Russell, “but it’s unlikely to be possible.”

“I’m sure we can provide any disability that we can dream of,” said Warren.

“I don’t know,” said Russell. “The trouble with Charlie is that he wants to be blind.”

“That’s a desire for a real life-changing modification,” said Warren. “I know Craig’s amputations have been very severe, but he can still function and enjoy life, and now with his new chair even has some independence. If Charlie was blind, I’m sure we’d all support him and look after him, but there’s something about giving up sight which disturbs me a lot.”

“I agree,” said Russell, “and despite all the various disabilities we enjoy in our community, there’s something about blindness which also disturbs me. It’s not as if he was blind from birth and learned braille.”

“I have a suggestion,” said Warren. “I bet you can get contact lenses which are completely black, and which make the wearer totally blind. Charlie could investigate getting black lenses and find out the reality of blindness.”

“I’ll do some investigations on the internet,” said Russell. “Meanwhile, are you going to tell Richard that you want two amputations?”

“Yes,” said Warren, “the time has come. Craig knows my plan and supports me. The only challenge will be for others to look after him whilst I’m in Mexico. We’ve never been apart, and since his amputations, I’ve always been by his side.”

“He’s a much-loved member of the community,” said Russell, “he’ll be OK with us all watching out for him.”

“Don’t forget that ‘watching out for him’ includes wiping his arse!”

“No problem. We’re a community in which no physical situations are a difficulty—except perhaps blindness.”

Time passed pleasantly for the residents of Fulfilment Lodge; there seemed to be a calm maturity achieved by all who had fulfilled their destiny as disabled men, and they basked in the appropriate name of their home; most of the men were fulfilled. There were still a few, however, who were able-bodied, and they often pondered upon the obvious satisfaction enjoyed by their disabled friends. One by one they took action, some of it surprising.

One bright sunny afternoon, Charlie passed the word around that he was inviting the whole community to meet with him in the dining room. “It seems everyone else has had to travel great distances to achieve their disability,” he said, “several of you going all the way to Mexico, and others to that shrine to bracing in North London. I don’t have to travel anywhere.” He took a small mirror and two small glass bottles from his pocket. “I’m looking around at you all for the last time. This afternoon, with you all watching, I shall become blind. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to continue playing my part in the life of the Lodge, but I’ll never see it, or you, again; what’s more, I know I bid farewell to the sun and the blue sky. I’ll never forget them, just as I will never forget any of you.”

The friends held their breath whilst Charlie pulled the tops off the two little bottles. Each contained a black contact lens. With the mirror to help him, he inserted the black lenses into his eyes, and first his left eye and then his right was blacked out. He turned his face. “I can’t see a thing,” he said, “and my world is now totally black. Please someone, say something.”

The friends were speechless for a moment, but then broke into wild applause. “Wonderful,” said Russell, “my lovely man; now you have achieved your goal.”

Richard looked at Russell. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes, of course he did,” said Charlie, answering for his lover. “We’ve talked about it a lot, and I’ve practised wearing the black lenses in our room. Whilst I can enjoy my new life, I know I’ll be very dependent on my lovely man from now on. The lenses arrived in the post a few days ago, and we’ve talked long and hard before today. Once we knew that my blinding was the right thing for both us, we decided we’d make it into this kind of public ritual for you all to join in with.”

Within a few days, Warren arrived in Richard’s office to ask for his amputations.  Richard smiled. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, but I’ve just been waiting for you to come with some such request. It would be hard to live in this community with all these men and their various disabilities and equipment without wanting to be part of it and get to enjoy the brilliant feelings the rest of us live with. Of course you must go and get your feet taken off. It will be interesting to have a different kind of amputee in our midst.”

“And has Russell finally decided what he wants?” said Warren.

“Yes, I think you know: he wants a pair of KAFO’s, long leg braces, but he doesn’t want ischial rings like me as he doesn’t want to become reliant on crutches. It remains to be seen if he manages without, but that’s his plan. He’ll be fitted with braces very quickly, as he only has to visit Veteran Braces to get measured. He’ll be fully braced long before you’re walking on your new feet.”

Veteran Braces did an excellent job after they’d overcome their shock at Russell rejecting modern fibre glass and insisting on the thickest and heaviest steel for his braces, and infallible drop locks that would fall instantly as soon as he stood up. He was determined that he would follow the examples of Richard and Mo, and strap himself into his braces every day, and for the whole day, not removing them until he went to bed. He was determined that his knees would never again bend when he stood, so that he would achieve the feeling of disability that he realised he wanted.

Warren was in Mexico when Richard had an email from Johan. If this man turned out suitable for the community, he would be taking the last available room, and the place would have reached its full complement. In fact, it turned out that Johan had a partner Stefan, and they both wanted the same modification, and to come and live in the community as a couple.

“They want DHD’s,” said Richard to Valentine. “That means amputations the same as yours but with both legs gone at the same time. It would put them both permanently in wheelchairs.”

“You can be sure they’ve thought about this a lot and talked about it. We’re able to cope with wheelers in the house, and it wouldn’t stop them joining Mo’s outings. Let’s meet and offer the usual trial month, and if we like them, our house will be full.”

When they arrived for their trial, it was clear that Johan and Stefan had been using wheelchairs for some time. Johan explained that he had been born in Belgium, had seen many amputees in his childhood, old men from the first world war, and their sons from the second. He had decided when still very young that he would one day become an amputee himself; Stefan was from Berlin and growing up in the aftermath of the second world war, had also seen many amputees. They had both had similar experiences as Richard with child polio victims wearing heavy leg braces at school. They had both come to England as students and when they met, they discovered had the same desire to be amputees. They had been lovers since student days, and more recently had got married. All that was left to complete their lives was to achieve amputations. Stefan had had a successful career running a garden centre and was ready for early retirement; Johan had been a banker, and had already retired very early, wealthy but suffering from stress. They owned a large house in West London which they proposed to sell, expecting it to be worth several million. They both had good retirement pensions, and Richard was charmed by their mature and calm presence together. He had little doubt that the trial period was hardly necessary, as he was sure they would be ideal residents and would quickly find their places in the life of the community.

Warren was surprised to find two new residents when he got back from Mexico. His arrival had been very dramatic: he had rolled out of the taxi from the station in a wheelchair, but as soon as he hit the ground, he jumped forward out of the chair and walked into the house on his knees, with little shortened crutches to help his balance. On close inspection, they discovered that he was wearing a pair of shoes with stout soles, worn back-to-front as it were, on his knees with his short stumps behind him in the “shoes”.

Craig had sip-and-sucked his chair out to the wheelchair ramp to meet his brother, and at the sight of Warren marching slightly unsteadily towards him on his knees, Craig slipped forward out of his chair onto the ground. Warren dropped his crutches and put his arms around his brother, kissing him long and hard. “Another very happy amputee,” sighed Richard.

During their trial month, Stefan resigned from his post as manager of the garden centre, and together they put their house on the market. They returned briefly to sort out personal items and arrange for their extensive art collection to be transferred to Fulfilment Lodge, where everyone could enjoy their remarkable collection of paintings. The grand staircase became an exceptional gallery of artworks.

“We should celebrate now we have our all our residents,” said Valentine.

“No, not yet,” said Richard. “We’ll wait for Stefan and Johan to get their amputations and be fully recovered. Then we’ll have a big party.”

“And hopefully blind Charlie will have gained plenty of confidence moving around the lodge,” said Valentine. “He intends to remain blind on a permanent basis, but the fact that he could take the lenses out makes it easier for us to cope with his situation. Why is it that we can all deal with me having my left leg amputated, but we’re all worried about Charlie having his eyes removed? Sam says that even the surgeon in Mexico won’t remove eyes.”

“He loves his decision,” said Richard, “and I know he’s determined to remain in a dark world for the rest of his life. You know he can’t even tell night or day: his lenses are totally black and that’s all he sees. As our housekeeper, his abilities to look after us are much curtailed, but he’s already mastered the washing machines, and is practising making beds.”

It was a couple of months before they held their party. Russell, who loved his newly braced life, devised a banquet and they ate it at a big table on the lawn in full view of Mike in his iron-lung. With the windows of his room open, he could watch everything in his mirror, he could hear the conversation, and it was as close as they could make it for him to join in.

Richard, who once was a pessimist, and had become a complete optimist, celebrated the achievement with a toast. Between the excellent main course and the promise of pudding, Richard struggled to his feet. “To Fulfilment Lodge and every gay cripple who lives here: may we all live long and safely, with respect for one another, and happily together, each in his own chosen way.”

Sam spoke first. “I was the first resident to be invited here. It has been the most brilliant journey for me, after years of wanting to use hooks, to actually get my amputations and spend my time relying on these.” He flexed his hooks. “I like that I have to start each day struggling into the harness, and I’ll never escape the tight strapping which makes it possible for me to work my hooks.”

“From the first person to the last two,” said Johan. “Stefan and I have dreamed of getting to be legless for a very long time. Even though we had the money, we didn’t have the contacts to get our amputations, nor did we live in a house which would have made living in wheelchairs possible.”

Stefan took up his husband’s theme. “We are so delighted to discover not only a home where we can live the lives we wanted as double hip amputees, but also to have found at our time of life, a whole community of wonderful friends. As you know, we were lucky in life and came here having sold a very expensive house in Richmond, and with good pensions. We’d like to do something special for the community.”

“Yes,” said Johan, “we’d like to pay for a swimming pool. We’re imagining quite a large pool in a lovely huge greenhouse amongst the trees—we’ll call it the Fulfilment Lido. There will be a wide artificial beach so that those who don’t want to swim can enjoy lounging around the pool—“

“—and changing rooms as good as the Paralympics,” continued Stefan, “and a hoist, for getting into the water. We’ll ensure our legacy will pay for the upkeep of the pool, perhaps even employing a pool boy, who of course must be an amputee.”

“The only thing,” said Johan, “is to apologise to Mike. I’m afraid you’ll never go swimming, but we’re wondering if we can find a way of wheeling your iron lung to the Lido to watch the others.”

Richard stood to thank Johan and Stefan for their generosity. “It will be a wonderful addition to our facilities,” he said, “and I know we will all enjoy it very much. Of course, I won’t swim myself as I never take my Milwaukee off, and if I jumped in the pool with it, I’d sink like a stone; but it will be great for the rest of you.”

Craig looked around at his friends. “I’d like to make a cheeky suggestion,” he said. “We all know one another very intimately, indeed most of you have wiped my arse at some time, so how about making the Lido a naked zone? I love my new body and I’m very keen to show it off. Except for our mobility aids, let’s all enjoy the new facilities in the nude.”

“That would be lovely,” said Johan. “Stefan and I had already thought the same.”

It was Roy who spoke next. “For me, it will be very exciting to be free of my wheelchair and float my paralysed body in the water. I’ve no idea if I will be able to swim, but with some floats I sure I can enjoy the water.”

“It’s the same for me,” said Craig, “I don’t know if I can swim either but the freedom of being in the water will be wonderful, especially naked!”

“I wonder if we can swim?” said Tony. “Our webbing is completely waterproof, of course, as we always shower together, but we’ll need the world’s strangest pair of swim shorts with four legs!”

“Oh no you won’t,” laughed Craig, “as we’ll all be naked in the new Lido. We just have to get used to one person not only having two heads and four legs, but also two cocks!”

“Even if we can’t swim,” said Simon, “it will be so nice to just sit in the water.”

“Can you hear me ….. out there?” came a voice. It was Mike. Although the window was open, his voice wasn’t very loud. They all turned to listen. “I want to thank everyone ….. for the sex!” said Mike.

“What?” said Richard, as everyone else laughed.

“It’s one of the highlights… of my day when one of you comes… and puts your hand though… one of my portholes and… plays with my cock. I don’t always know… who it is, and I’ve a suspicion…. that several of you come and…. play with me.”

“It’s a pleasure,” said Charlie. “As a blind person, it’s great to come and find your iron lung with my fingers, find the porthole and play with you. Of course, with one hand on your cock, you’d never guess what the other one is doing!”

“I think several of us enjoy doing that,” said Warren.

“The only one I can easily identify… is you, Sam, as being… played with by a hook is… especially amazing.”

“Well, I can do lots of things,” said Craig, “but that’s one thing I’ll never do!”

“And I thought I was the only one coming to you,” said Mo.

“Oh even with my eyes closed… I know when it’s you,” said Mike, “because you also kiss me… with your bushy beard.”

There was general laughter as the residents dived into Russell’s delicious pudding. Mo launched into his version of Your Tiny Hand is Frozen, his tenor voice resounding around the garden, whilst Russell refilled all their glasses.

Richard felt a great contentment as he looked around his extraordinary collection of friends. Creating Fulfilment Lodge had exceeded even his wildest dreams, and he knew he had achieved something very special.

 

THE  COMMUNITY