THE FULFILMENT CHRONICLES

 

THE FULFILMENT CHRONICLES
by DougUK

(This is Part 2 of a trilogy. Please read “The Community” first)

Richard writes:

It’s now six years since I won my enormous lottery jackpot, and it’s been six truly amazing and life-changing years for myself and the many friends I have made during this time. I look back to that extraordinary summer of 2014 and remember the first time I saw our great house in Dorset and met the three extraordinary men who would help me transform it into the happy home it is today.

The summer of 2014 was also the time I began my own journey of disability. I will never forget that final day of freedom when I went to Veteran Braces to be fitted into my Milwaukee brace. Despite its extraordinary weight, and gross restrictions, I was never happier than that day when I was first locked into it, and never in the years since have I regretted the considerable struggle which it has caused me in my daily life. It’s struggling to live in the disabled condition it’s created which gives me my constant feeling of fulfilment.

I remember arriving at the house alone, on the first day of my imprisonment in my brace, realising the inescapable situation I had put myself into, and knowing that I had no choice but to learn to live the rest of my whole life trapped in all this steel and leather. Those first few nights were very hard, and it took me a while to learn to sleep so tightly trapped; now I am unable to imagine life without the steel band which encircles my neck, the supports pressing upon the back of my skull, or the padded leather on which my chin rests permanently.  I have forgotten what it’s like to have any movement of my body; my spine has remained rigid for six years, and I am so happy that it will remain so for many years to come.

Little did I known that my wonderful life partner, Valentine, would come into my life at that time. He only saw me once without my big brace, but he tells me that it was love at first sight even then. Our first kiss came at our second meeting.

It was my lovely Valentine, of course, who came up with the name for our community “Fulfilment Lodge”. I’d planned to call it “Valhalla”, a castle built for fallen heroes, but Valentine’s suggestion was much better.

Valentine writes:

I’d always been obsessed by the condition known as BIID and had fantasised about being one-legged. I’d also assumed that it would never happen. When I first saw Richard’s advertisement recruiting gay men for live-in domestic work with an unusually wealthy man, I had no idea that it would be love at first sight. We met, I’ll never forget, at a hotel near Waterloo Station, and Richard put me and several others through a rigorous interview. It was his references to BIID at the end of the interview which excited me, and which probably got me the job. I did not tell him at the time, but all through the interview process I was already falling in love with him, and when we met for the second time, and he was trapped in his heavy Milwaukee, my love was complete.

Russell writes:

I didn’t tell Richard at the time, but I was very excited when I saw him in his massive Milwaukee Brace, and realised that sooner or later, I’d have to get a brace of some kind. My obsession, however, was always for leg braces. I know that my longing to be disabled contributed to the way I talked to Richard at our first meeting.

Charlie has dictated this for Russell to write it for him:

I was also very conscious of a need to be disabled, although for me I was very unsure what my destiny would be. I was turned on by all kinds of disability, and loved it when I saw a disabled man, whatever his challenge might be. I had many memorable sightings in my teenage years, most of which I remembered vividly.

Those interview days in that London hotel were life-changing for me. Not only did I get offered the job of being house-keeper for Richard, but I also met Russell who was and still is the man of my dreams.

When we went down to Dorset to see the big house Richard had bought, I was almost certain that I would accept moving into the community just to be with Russell, and it was easy to see how the great old Victorian pile would be a wonderful place to live. That tumble-down potting shed where Russell first kissed me is still standing in the garden, and we still linger nostalgically there to this day. Now I am blind, it’s the nostalgic smell of that potting shed that I love.

I recognised that Russell had a clear understanding of the need to find his disability, although it was a while before he knew his deepest desire; I was similarly unsure, although I always loved to be blindfolded when we had sex. This seemed to be a clue for my long-term destiny.

It’s now three years since I finally embraced my destiny and became blind; I have never regretted that moment, and every morning, when I awake into my dark world, I rejoice at my good fortune to have my lovely lover beside me to guide me through the day.

Richard writes:

I could never have predicted that finding the men to help me set up the house would result in finding my lover, nor that Russell and Charlie would so instantly find a bond. We are all extremely lucky to have discovered life partners so easily, and the arrangement with the two flats on the top floor of the house has worked out really well. As gay couples, we have our private spaces, and yet are living in the heart of our community.

That first winter, living conditions at the house were challenging, as we had workmen everywhere, and lived with the dust and noise of renovations. I was still learning to live in my Milwaukee, and yet even then thinking about the long leg braces which I now wear every day. Valentine was particularly keen that the lift we installed would go right to the top floor, and I knew he had his desire to be one-legged in mind when he was helping with the planning.

During the winter of 2014, we had a number of visits from various local authority officials, curious to know what was happening, and eager to find ways of extracting extra taxes from us. They found it hard to accept that we were simply a group of friends setting up a home to live in together; and that Valentine, Russell and Charlie were not employees, but just good friends. Local officials were also anxious that I had not applied for change of use from residential to that of a hotel; but I clarified that it’s not a hotel, and never would be, and that friends could live together without paying rent or exchanging money in any way. I was always very clear that as a result of my extraordinary lottery win, I would be providing a home for a group of friends, and that others would be joining us in the future, none of whom would pay a penny to live here.

Valentine writes:

I’m the only one to actually know how much Richard won in the lottery, as he’s always preferred to simply tell others that he’s very wealthy. His lottery win was actually three-hundred million, of which the bulk is invested and provides him with a substantial income with which he pays for the running costs of the house. Everyone who lives here is regarded as a friend, never as a guest, and no-one pays rent: thus we are genuinely a family, and community of like-minded gay men, and a source of considerable frustration to the tax man!

Having said that, the business of recruiting new friends to come and live with us, was always tricky. We all wanted the community to remain rather secretive, and we didn’t reveal our location until we were sure we had a good potential new friend applying to join us.

The house was finally ready for new friends to join us in the summer of 2015. It had been a very busy and complicated winter and spring, and we felt the smell of new paint would never disperse, but one lovely sunny morning—I think it must have been May that year—we waved goodbye to the last of the workmen and stood on the wide gravel sweep of the drive and admired our shiny new home.

A wide wheelchair ramp swept up to the imposing front door, which led to the grand hall. Today there is a brilliant collection of paintings in the hall, but at first it was rather bare and austere. Rising from the basement right up to our top floor flat is our sparking glass lift. We were sure we wanted a large and luxurious lift as we knew we were likely to have wheelchair-using friends in the future, which has proved true, and even for those who do not use a wheelchair, the lift is a bonus.

Charlie dictating:

Since becoming blind, I always use the lift. It’s easy for me to distinguish the control buttons, and much safer for me than the stairs. After three years of blindness, I know my way around the building very well and move about independently, although of course I cling to Russell, or whoever, when outside.

I still had my sight during those years of renovation and can remember how the place looked when the workmen left and our home was finished. The difference for me is that the walls of the hall will always be bare in my mind’s eye, although I know that there is now a great collection of art which the others enjoy.

Also there are friends here who came after I became blind, who I’ve never seen and will never see. I am lucky that they let me feel their faces, so I have an impression of them without knowing what they look like. I love my self-imposed predicament, understanding my world through sound and touch, and I love going through life in the total blackness of my blindness. I was warned that putting the black contact lenses into my eyes, and never taking them out, would result in a kind of film developing over the lenses, bonding them to my eyeballs, so that I cannot take them out. I’ve never tried, as I love my permanent darkness, and I like the idea that I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My lenses are a total blackout, so I cannot tell day from night, and my world really is completely black.

Sam writes:

I’m typing on my laptop with my hooks. It’s slower than with fingers, but I love working this way and it gives me great satisfaction to do many things with my hooks.

I was so lucky to be the first selected to join the community. The name of the place, Fulfilment Lodge, immediately gave me a good feeling as it suggested that I could achieve my goal. That trial month they imposed on me wasn’t easy, as my old ‘meat’ hands were trapped all day inside the mock hooks I’d had for some time. I knew very quickly that I would love living with hooks as hands, and it was with great trepidation that I approached the end of my trial period, hoping I’d be invited to join the community.

It was such a relief, and a great honour, to be invited to become one of Richard’s friends, and to move permanently into the Lodge. I will be eternally grateful for being provided with a home rent-free; having sold my house, I had the money to pay for my amputations, and to have a nest-egg in the bank if it should ever be needed.

Once I’d moved in, of course, I was anxious to have my hands cut off as soon as possible, and it was with great excitement that I flew to Mexico. By the time I was ready to go, Russell was in the iron lung, but Charlie kindly drove me to Heathrow. Only someone suffering from BIID will understand the joy I felt when I awoke from the surgery without my hands. Since then, life has always been tricky for me, but I enjoy the difficulties I encounter, and amaze everyone, including myself with what I can achieve with hooks.

Russell writes:

It was around the same time that we first met Sam, that I saw the advertisement on Ebay for the Iron Lung. I’d always wanted to spend some time in one, and I was sure that Richard would welcome it as a useful piece of equipment for the Lodge. Little did I know that we’d find a permanent resident for it when Mike arrived.

Charlie came with me. We hired a fairly big van and drove it to France. We found the location for the Iron Lung: it was an old farmhouse not far from Lille, and a middle-aged man met us. He explained that his father had spent almost his entire life in the lung, with a view in his mirror of an old orchard.  The man said he did not expect to make much money from the sale of the lung and was very pleased when we handed over several hundred Euros. He told us that the money would be used to buy a memorial for his father.

There were double doors to bring the lung out of the farmhouse, but several steps and difficulties to overcome to get it to the van and then into it. We assumed we’d got a big enough van, but it was a close thing, getting the huge lung into it. The machine was a lot bigger and heavier than we anticipated.

Coming back into England, we told the customs officials that it was being taken to a museum, and they were happy to let us drive away. All through the journey, I was excited. I’d wanted to spend time in an Iron Lung for as long as I could remember, and this unlikely dream was about to come true.

We’d arranged in advance with Richard that a small room like a little office, leading from the dining room in the Lodge would be an ideal location for the lung as it had a good view of the garden, and Richard also knew that I was hoping to spend time in it as soon as it was installed.

Charlie dictating:

It was quite a performance getting the Iron Lung into the small room allocated for it, and I don’t think any of us were ready for Russell to insist on being locked in immediately. We briefly met Sam, who was on his trial month at the time, and then suddenly Russell was in the lung and learning to let the machine breathe for him.

Richard and Valentine had told us how much they liked Sam, and he had tried within the limitations of his hooks, to help us get it into the Lodge. Later Sam would take a significant turn feeding Russell, and Russell found himself dealing with being fed by a pair of steel hooks. It was also a time to get to know Sam, and both Russell and I spent a lot of time with him, enjoying his company, and watching him learn to live with hooks for hands.

Valentine writes:

With Russell in the lung, I took on the chores of being chief cook, although in the spirit of the community, everyone helped in the kitchen. My rather limited repertoire of home cooking was hardly adequate, but everyone seemed to like what I did. Actually, I was nervous that Christmas was coming—and I was hoping that Russell could be persuaded out of the lung to do the traditional Christmas lunch for everyone!

Charlie dictating:

I was very pleased for Russell to have the experience he’d craved in the Iron Lung, but it meant that I was quite lonely in our bed up in our flat whilst he remained trapped in the little garden room below, and yes, I was hoping he’d come out of the lung for Christmas!

Roy writes:

Russell was in the iron lung when I first met him, but it was clear his time in it was limited, as the rest of the community was anxious to have their chef back and relieve Valentine of the responsibility, especially with Christmas coming, and everyone looking forward to their first Christmas lunch together!

I had been a wheelchair pretender for many years when the opportunity to join the community arose. I’d had a partner for some time, but he became impatient with the restrictions upon our lives caused by my being in the chair, and after a prolonged unhappy period, he’d left me. I was saddened by finding myself alone in late middle age and frustrated by the artificial situation of being a pretender. Over the years my desire to be a genuine spinal injury victim had grown stronger and stronger, and it became apparent that I could hope to achieve my goal if I was accepted into Richard’s community.

I always regarded my need to have a spinal injury to be a form of BIID, and it was exciting to me to meet Richard and Valentine who showed an understanding of the situation. They never saw me standing up, although at the time I first met them I could; I went to the interview in my chair, and of course spent the whole of my trial month without ever leaving it. It has been remarkable for me how the Lodge had been refurbished to cater for a wheeler, and how easy it has been for me to live here.

I am grateful that Sam was in Mexico when I arrived and was able to ask the surgeon who had amputated his hands if he would sever my spinal cord. The surgeon, sensing an opportunity to ask for a significant fee, agreed to carry out the operation, and Richard kindly agreed to pay for it.

Travelling to Mexico was not strange, as I had had numerous holidays as a wheelchair user and was experienced in how to cope with air travel as a wheeler. It was exciting to know that my return flight would be very different because I would no longer be pretending but would be a genuinely disabled spinal injury victim.

It's almost impossible to convey the deep and inescapable feelings that BIID causes. I knew from a very young age that I wanted to be disabled, and it was only the severity of it which increased as I got older. I know that it had become an obsession, and that there was never a day when I didn’t want to be a cripple. My excitement as I approached my operation was off the scale.

I’d been booked into a hotel in a suburb of Mexico City, in the same street as the hospital where my surgeon would do the operation. He came to the hotel on the evening before the operation and checked that I was fully aware of the implications of what he would do. He explained that I’d be in the hospital for a few days of intense observation, and then would be transferred to the hotel for at least three further weeks.

I couldn’t sleep that night in the hotel as I was so excited. I wheeled myself to the hospital the next morning, was checked over and put into a bed. It was a very long day, but eventually the porter came for me in the early evening. I was given a spinal anaesthetic, and as it took effect, I realised that I would never feel my legs again.

Before I drifted off to sleep, the surgeon laid a hand on my back. “Can you feel my hand?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“That is where I will make the incision, and the level of your spinal severance.”

His hand was between my shoulder blades. “Yes,” I said, “that’s the right place.”

My spine was completely numb and I was given a further pill to put me into a deep sleep. The next thing I knew, I was lying in bed, back in the private room where I’d started the day. I woke slowly and took stock of my situation. I could tell immediately that I could not move my legs, but I was unsure of the further damage that had been done to my body. A nurse came to give me water and to tell me to go back to sleep.

The next day my surgeon came to visit me. He held out his hand for me to shake it, and it was at that moment that I discovered the effect upon my arms and hands of my spinal injury. The surgeon knew by my broad smile that he had done the right thing for me. That smile never left my face throughout my convalescent period, nor when at last I boarded the plane back to the UK.

I was determined to prove that I could live my new life without much assistance, and I got myself alone, in my chair, to Waterloo and onto a train for Wareham. There I got a taxi and without any help, I arrived back at Fulfilment Lodge.

Russell writes:

I had been in the lung for about a month when Roy got back from his surgery. He wheeled in to see me, his face on a level with mine, and he positioned himself so that I could see him in the mirror. The great smile on his face told me everything about his experience. He was now very crippled indeed, with limited movement in his arms, and no grip. He explained that a lot of things had become fairly difficult for him, but he was determined to overcome all his handicaps, and that he was loving the daily challenges in his life. It was clear he’d become truly fulfilled, just as the name of our Lodge says.

Being in the lung was a great experience, and I knew I’d want to be put back into it again after I had been taken out. It was not the complete fulfilment that I wanted for my long-term life style, but it’s a wonderful experience. I’m lucky that I have had two prolonged experiences locked in the lung, but of course since Mike arrived, I won’t get any further time in the Iron Lung as he is now permanently sealed into it.

Both times, after only a few weeks in the lung, it was challenging to get back up again and walk. I was very giddy and had to lay in a hot bath for ages before I could even sit up. It took a full day before I could stand. I know that Mike has been warned that after years in the lung, he can never stand up again even if he wanted to—although he’s clear he’ll never come out of the lung again.

Although both times I had to leave the lung I was sorry, my lover Charlie was always delighted to have me back in bed with him. He’d missed me when I was downstairs sealed in the lung and always loved the intimacy of sleeping together. Now he is blind, of course, I will always be by his side.

I am very happy with my final decision to have long leg braces made. Despite all the other possibilities to become disabled, it was (and had always been) my deep need for braces which obsessed me, and once the Lodge was running smoothly, I knew the time had come to get my braces made and take on the commitment to wear them fulltime, all day every day. Without the ischial rings which make Richard’s mobility so difficult, I was determined to walk without crutches, but I do need a walking stick to ensure I don’t crash over. I have been able to continue with my work being the community cook, but now the Lodge is full, our lives are much more like that in a commune, and I get a lot of help in the kitchen.

Craig dictates to Warren:

We have had several conversations here at the Lodge about BIID as most of us here have suffered from it and have been cured by getting our amputations or braces. We are all agreed that it’s a condition which starts in early childhood, and although we’ve all seen and remembered “sightings” of other cripples when we were children, we are sure the condition seems to arise regardless of our experiences.

I’m now a very happy torso. My arms and legs were amputated nearly four years ago, and there hasn’t been a moment when I have felt anything but happiness in my situation. Of course, I’m much smaller now than I was when I first met Richard and Valentine, and my body seems quite tiny against my brother. I will never stop being grateful to Richard for letting Warren and I live here and making it possible for me to have that extraordinary trip to Mexico.

Warren writes:

We were unsure how the community would react to us being lovers as we know it’s pretty rare for two brothers to feel such sexual love for one another. Our parents were scandalised by our lifestyle: they did not understand being gay; they were repulsed by us having sex together and declaring our love; and finally when Craig came out and described his BIID to them, there were some terrible scenes at home which resulted in my finding a cheap place of my own and bringing Craig to live with me.

I don’t think we’ll ever adequately explain our feelings for one another; we just know we will be passionate together always, and I am completely devoted to my lovely brother, and delighted that he’s reached his goal of being a legless armless torso.

Our meeting with the surgeon in Mexico was a challenge. He was very concerned that although he’s done many voluntary amputations, the complete removal of both arms and legs, and any signs that Craig had ever had arms and legs, was one of the most extreme modifications he’d ever undertaken. We spent some time with him convincing him that Craig knew clearly what he was asking for, and that he’d never be satisfied for less than complete removal, and eventually the surgeon agreed.

I sat by Craig after the operation and was with him when he awoke.

Craig dictates:

I can’t describe how I felt when I emerged for the deep anaesthetic. It was as if I great burden had been lifted. I remember Warren kissing me, one of the deep long kisses we always exchanged, and him whispering that it was all over. I was covered in bandages from neck to arse and couldn’t move. Only my head at one end, and my cock at the other were visible outside the bandages. Warren brought a mirror for me to see my bandaged torso, and I wept tears of joy.

I slept a very great deal those first few days, which was probably a very good idea as I slept through a lot of the initial pain. At last the day came for the bandages to be removed. A nurse washed me all over with warm water, and then Warren brought the mirror back for me to see my new naked self. I was a bit shocked by the livid scars, but the nurse said they would slowly settle down and fade away. The surgeon had done a brilliant job. Without shoulder blades, my upper body slipped smoothly away from my neck, and without any hips, my bottom end was smooth except for my cock.

I was in the hospital for nearly three weeks, and then transferred to the hotel that we all get to live in for a while whilst we recover. Warren went back there when he had his amputations, and they remembered him. The hotel staff were extremely understanding and helpful to newly amputated guests. I’m fairly sure that I was their first total quad amputee, and they were very kind indeed to me and to Warren.

Warren writes:

I got some casual clothes for Craig to wear in the hotel and for the flight home. He insisted that I found a seamstress to come to the hotel and remove the arms of the sweatshirt and sew up the legs of the shorts. He was always sure that he didn’t want empty sleeves flapping, or empty trousers legs. He’s very proud of his modified body and wants everyone to see how extremely disabled he is. We’d taken our wheelchair with us, and before we left the hotel, I’d taken him out for plenty of wandering round the area of the hotel. We also had a few meals in local cafes. Craig was used to me feeding him from the days when he was pretending to have no use of his arms, and I was used to knowing how to do it. We both enjoyed the glances and sometime outright staring of other diners when I was feeding my helpless brother.

When it was time to fly home, I pushed Craig to the door of the aircraft and then carried him to his seat. I had got over the shock of how light he was whilst we were at the hotel, and it’s remarkable that his slim short body is all there is to support his whole being for the rest of his life.

Snuggling together under a blanket on that long flight to London, we kissed unashamedly, and it was then that I confessed to Craig that one day I’d be an amputee. I told him that we’d have to get properly settled into life at Fulfilment Lodge, but that one day, with Richard’s help, I’d return to Mexico.

Craig:

Everyone at the Lodge was used to seeing me in a wheelchair and familiar with the sight of watching Warren feeding me. Several of our friends also help—it seems quite natural for everyone to be working together to overcome the challenges of our situations—but many of them were surprised to see how small I had become with such severe amputations. I particularly love it when Sam offers to feed me; there’s something very erotic in being fed by a steel hook rather than a spoon.

Once my scars were completely healed and starting to fade, Warren and I could indulge in our very active sex life. As expected, there are lots of things a legless armless torso can do that are impossible for an unmodified person. We both have very good strong cocks, and there are now endless variations of positions for Warren to play with me. We usually fall asleep with me in Warren’s arms, and we sleep quickly and easily after our regular sexual adventures.

I often wheel myself into Mike’s room. Guiding my wheelchair with my mouth is tricky, but if I’m very careful I can manoeuvre into a position where I can kiss him.  I know that he likes to kiss, and we feel we have a lot in common in our extreme disabilities. Locked permanently into his Iron Lung, it’s almost as if he has no body. Neither of us can write or do anything that requires hands; the difference is that in my wheelchair I can move about and go out; he’s trapped in the same position in the same room for all his life. I know he loves his extreme position, and I’m sure he’ll have a good story to dictate.

Mike dictates:

Yes, Craig’s right, there are similarities in our predicaments, although of course, I never leave my Iron Lung, and thus never leave my room here in the Lodge. When they all go off to a concert, I know I can never go, and that’s part of the thrill of the commitment I’ve made to live my life flat on my back, unable to move or breath unaided, with this tight collar gripping me round the neck and this great metal machine breathing for me.

I know I’m very peculiar: I’ve known this all my life. Since seeing my neighbour when I was a small child, struggling to walk in leg irons (as we called them then), I was always desperate to be chronically disabled. When Auntie gave me her husband’s braces, and I was able to wear them, I knew my destiny was clear—I’d be as crippled and disabled as possible. I never questioned this strange ambition—it always seemed completely natural to me that I was destined to be as handicapped as possible, and throughout my childhood and adolescence I never missed any chance to pretend every kind of disability I could find: I blocked my ears to be deaf, I wore blindfolds to be blind, and I lay in bed with mountains of bedclothes to prevent movement, simulating paralysis. As an older teenager, I started to search the internet for fetish images and information and spent my limited resources on neck braces and hoods.

The day came when I saw my first images of Iron Lungs. It was then that I imagined my true destiny; but of course I knew such a fantastic ambition was impossible. When I became aware of Richard’s community, I hoped to find a way of living with disability, without knowing quite what I wanted, except that it would be very extreme. Little did I imagine that Richard and Valentine would own an Iron Lung, and I was excited beyond belief that my ambition could be realised.

I’d often pretended to be in a lung whilst at home. I filled plastic tubes with sand to weight my arms and legs to represent paralysis, and I’d made a crude neck brace to represent the collar of a lung. I taught myself to sleep in this awkward combination of equipment, and discovered how happy I was when trapped in my pretend situation. It was never enough, however, as I could climb out of my arrangements, and stand again. I desperately wanted to experience being totally locked into a lung, and completely unable to escape.

By the time I arrived at the Lodge, I was ready for the long-term commitment. I knew within the first few days that I had made the right decision. It’s now four years since I was locked into my lung, and each day that passes I am more and more loving my steel prison.

My Iron Lung has been breathing for me every breath every day for these four years, and I cannot imagine breathing unassisted, or any kind of variation to my breathing. I have no idea if I can still breathe on my own; but I’ll never find that out. Also I cannot imagine seeing the world in any way except lying flat on my back, and seeing everything in my mirror.

I have achieved the skill which I dreamed of—being able to read mirror-image writing fluently. My friends set up a book on a music stand which is immediately behind my head in such a way that it’s reflected in the mirror over my face. Slowly at first, with big print children’s books, I practised reading aloud, and now I can read fluently almost anything except very small print. I have got a great relationship with Charlie since he chose to become blind. He cannot see to read, but he can sit behind me and turn the pages for me, and thus I read to him. He loves his blindness and loves to be read to; I love reading to him, but without his help I cannot turn the pages—it’s a great arrangement.

By the way, I assume that after four years of mirror reading, I’m gradually losing the ability to read print the old conventional way. I’ve told them never to put a book in front of my nose, so I’ve not seen print the correct way round; and I get a thrill from the idea that being in the lung has conditioned my brain to have a completely different way of doing something so ordinary as reading.

I did not realise, however, that I’d enjoy such a terrific sex life as I have had since being locked into my lung. Several of my friends here at the Lodge like to come and put a hand into one of the portholes of my lung and play with my cock. Although I cannot see it, I’m pretty sure over the years my cock has grown bigger due to the constant use it gets, and I am learning to deal with the difficulties of being unable to breathe any faster when someone’s playing with me, unless they increase the pressure in my lung. With increased pressure I can get my breathing back easier, but it’s not easy, and they do not always remember to increase the pressure quickly enough. Now and again, I’m startled when someone plays with my exposed tits, and of course I love to be kissed. Sam’s steel hooks are especially exciting when he grabs one of my nipples; and Mo’s bristly beard is lovely when he kisses me.

Another thing that I rely on my friends for is caring for my body sealed in the lung. Once a week, I’m turned onto my side and left with a long piece of solid foam keeping me propped up. This is to prevent bed sores, and so far it’s worked. The other thing is the business of my bone density. It’s to do with calcium, and Richard researched a pill for me to swallow daily to slow the creation of calcium, so that it doesn’t accumulate in my organs.

It's the most extreme disability I can imagine, and I’m aware that there are serious long-term implications. I embrace the knowledge that I’m causing serious damage and changes to my body—what can be more disabling than that?

We’ve had some conversations about my commitment to being locked here in my lung for so long, but I’m certain I’ve made the right decision for me, and I’m daily thankful to Richard for providing me with the lifestyle I love so much. It’s only been four years so far—I dream of celebrating forty years, and more.

Richard writes:

My Milwaukee is now so much a part of my being that I cannot imagine living without it. Valentine unlocks me from it for a few minutes once a week to change my tee-shirt and sponge my skin, but I’m locked back into it as soon as possible. This means that I spend no more than 20 minutes a week outside the brace, equivalent of less than one day a year. My movement is permanently restricted, which I enjoy daily, but the experience of real disability developed when I got my long leg  braces. The ischial rings under my pelvis make my mobility very restricted, and I know that I’ll never achieve walking without my crutches. I sleep without the leg braces, but Valentine straps them onto me every morning, and does not release me until the end of the day. I never leave my bed without the braces, and thus never take an unrestricted step. I love waking up looking forward to another day of very limited mobility.

I know Russell was very interested in my equipment, and it was no surprise when he chose to live his life in a pair of long leg braces. He does not want the severity of my situation and opted to have braces without ischial rings. This means that he’s learned to walk safely, although fairly slowly, with only a walking stick, and doesn’t need crutches. He seems to be very happy this way.

We were all surprised when Tony and Simon came to us. In catering for disabled gay men, I had not anticipated anyone would apply to the community with a desire to be con-joined twins; but the severe restrictions on their life are clearly as great as any other disability, so they’re not out of place living in the Lodge and have become a much-loved feature of our social lives together.

Tony writes:

Simon and I met at university. We think we were attracted because we are so alike, and people always assumed we’re brothers, which of course we’re not. We were lovers whilst still at university, and we graduated together. We decided to make our lives together, and got very similar jobs in the city, both as hedge-fund managers. We didn’t work in the same firm, but could get together for lunch every day, and with offices so close we could ride the tube together to go to work and back home at night. Our relationship has always been very physical, and we slowly realised our strange, probably unique desire to become con-joined.

We recognised that the physical side of our love-making would be impossible if we were con-joined, but this is definitely compensated for by the extraordinarily wonderful experience of being bound tightly together. We constructed our first crude harness from a couple of old seatbelts, and then set to work to refine it to the satisfactory complex webbing we wear today. At first we wore the harness only in the evenings, but we were quickly attracted to trying to sleep locked together. At first it wasn’t easy, but with both of us determined to persevere, we eventually learned to sleep peacefully together. We’ve slept like that for several years now.

Simon writes:

We reached the point where we were always harnessed together at all times at home, and we longed for every weekend when we could have many hours of uninterrupted bondage. We knew that we could afford early retirement, which would make it possible to spend a great deal longer strapped together. Unfortunately, we could not become permanently linked because we could not leave our home joined together. It was thus with great excitement that we found out about Richard’s project.

Now we are so happily installed as residents of the Lodge, we have disposed of all the clothes we had as single people, and only have clothing to wear con-joined. We still have separate trousers, but no shirts or jackets except those that fit us as we are joined together.

Tony writes:

We’d often discussed the problem of our “internal” arms and hands, the ones we didn‘t reveal or use when we were strapped together. We’d speculated that we’d be able to be closer, and feel more conjoined if we had one arm amputated, I would lose my left arm, and Simon would lose his right arm. Oddly these amputations would not make much difference to the way we operate, as both of these arms were superfluous when we were harnessed together. Now our arms are gone, we’ve been able to tighten the harness a lot, and our faces are now so close that we can easily kiss. We’ve often speculated how many con-joined twins can actually kiss their twin. It’s become very important for us.

Simon writes:

Since Johan and Stefan’s wonderful project to create the Lodge Lido has been completed, we’ve enjoyed stripping down to our harness and floating in the water. We’ve even managed to swim on our back, but mostly we love to laze around. I think the others are intrigued to have a con-joined couple acting as one, but with four legs and two cocks. Certainly we get our kicks from having both cocks sucked at the same time, a bonus we didn’t envisage when we came to live in the Lodge. Living fulltime in the way we do is truly fulfilling for us, so the Lodge is well-named.

Mike dictates:

When Tony and Simon came into view in my mirror, I was very surprised. In all my years of finding photos on the internet of all kinds of disability, I had, of course, found pictures and videos of con-joined twins. I never thought I’d ever meet any, and I loved the fact that Tony and Simon had chosen this extraordinary lifestyle. They talked a lot about the freedom to be themselves living at the Lodge, and wondered if they’d ever find the courage to go out into the world.

I’ve told them that my life choice prevents me from ever going out anywhere, but that they deserved to go to the kind of concert that Mo organises. Of course, people will stare, but they must expect that and ignore it. I’m sure our odd crowd of cripples invites a lot of staring whenever they go out in public. By joining them, Tony and Simon will be with friends, and safe from comment.

Mo writes:

I’m very much hoping that Tony and Simon will be brave enough to join our regular concert trips to the Lighthouse in Poole. I think the other concert goers have got used to our little band of cripples in our back-row wheelchair spaces, and I can buy a pair of seats which will suit Tony and Simon, and from which they can enjoy the concerts.

Just like all the other residents, I love my lifestyle here, and will also be eternally grateful for Richard’s generosity in giving me a wonderful home.

I think my situation was a bit different from other peoples, as I never had a chance to be my disabled self in public or at any time except alone at home. As a single gay man, with a good income from my salon, I spent a lot of money on my Perthese brace for my left leg, and the great built-up boot for my right foot.  At home, I wore my brace and boot combination around my flat, but it was never enough. I felt unable to go outside, much as I yearned to, and genuinely when I went to meet Richard at the Waterloo hotel, I told the truth: it was the first time I’d ever ventured out of the house wearing my equipment. I’d left my front door very early in the morning so that no neighbours would spot me and waited for ages in a coffee shop in Waterloo Station before going to the appointment with Richard.

I had not considered the thrill of seeing other people’s equipment. Richard encouraged me to wear shorts, so everyone can see my left leg, the one I’ve never put to the ground since I moved in, and the big built-up boot that the Perthese requires me to wear. I’m used to being several inches taller than my real height, and I quite like being taller. I’m pleased to be aware that my left leg is distinctly thinner than my right, and I’m sure it’s gradually atrophying. Richard’s braces make him much more disabled than me, and it’s been lovely to admire Russell since he got his. They both have the ability to bend their braces at the knees when they sit down, but my Perthese doesn’t do that: my left leg is not only atrophying but is also permanently stiff and straight. I wear my brace in bed in order to keep my leg straight all the time. I like to think I’ve achieved permanent damage to my leg. Warren asked me if I wouldn’t rather have it amputated and enjoy having what’s called a LAK, and a prosthetic, but I wouldn’t want to be without my lovely brace.

I’m so glad that almost everyone enjoys the trips to the Bournemouth Orchestra at the Lighthouse. I’ve been a fan of classical music all my life and was anxious that I’d have to go without going to concerts when I came to live at the Lodge. In fact the opposite has happened, and now I go to more concerts than ever before. Sometimes it’s only two or three of us that wants to go to a concert, and sometimes it’s almost everyone.

If Tony and Simon join our concert-going group, there could come a time when Mike is entirely alone here at the Lodge. Jacob, the new boy, will be here, but he and Mike can’t communicate. I talked to Mike about being alone, but he says he looks forward to the day when he is truly alone locked in his Iron Lung without anyone near: he says he’ll feel very happy to be so securely trapped and alone. I think I’d be frightened, but I’m not the one in an Iron Lung. I don’t think I’d last more than a few days before I wanted to get out again, but he’s been there for four years and seems happier and happier as each day goes by.

Roy writes:

I have some very unexpected news. I have a boyfriend who is my lover! This is how it’s happened.

I’m the most enthusiastic of the friends going to symphony concerts with Mo and haven’t missed one yet. That very first time, when we were all a bit nervous of being together in public, I noticed a cute young man who kept staring at us. He was there the next few times we went to the Lighthouse, and he seemed to be particularly watching me.

Well, one day I smiled and nodded to him, and he came across to talk. He told me his name’s David, and he admitted that he liked seeing disabled people, and especially he liked seeing men in wheelchairs. He was quite nervous when he said he’s gay and asked if I am. When I told him that I’m also gay, he relaxed. I promised to see him at the next concert.

The following week, he was waiting for our group to arrive, and he came over and asked to sit next to me. Well, there are always a few empty seats available for companions to wheelers, so that was easy. As the lights dimmed and the music started, he held my hand. In the interval, he asked if I minded, and of course I told him that I liked it.

This went on for a few weeks, and the others noticed and made provocative comments in the bus coming home. It was Richard who suggested that I invite David to visit. “After all,” said Richard, “if the young man fancies you, there’s no reason you shouldn’t entertain him at the Lodge.”

It turned out that David has a small motorbike, so I gave him instructions how to find the Lodge and waited to see if he’d come. I was quite nervous when he arrived, as I was unsure how he’d cope with all the other disabilities. He’d seen most of us in the back row of the concert hall, but how would he feel seeing us in the broad daylight in the big house we call home?

I took him up in the lift to my room, where we had a conversation. “I know about ‘wannabees’,” he said, “but I’m just an admirer. I don’t know why I’ve always been attracted to disabled men, but I have been for as long as I can remember.” He was very flattering to me. “I’ve been watching you at the concerts,” he said, “and you’re not only a wheelchair user, but also a very handsome man. I think I’m a little bit in love with you.”

I told him that it was just lust, but that there’s nothing wrong with that. To cut a long story short, his lust has lasted over a year, and seems indeed to be love. I’ve grown very fond of him, and for a long time I was secretly wondering if he’d ever like to move in with me and live here. He could still go to work on his little motorbike. It would be a big step, and not one which Richard might agree to, but neither David nor I expected this to happen.

We’ve always had a very laid-back approach to sex in the Lodge. We often find someone to spend time together in the dungeon, and we regularly have casual sexual fun with Mike. Charlie loves to spend a night chained up in the basement, and Russell, his lover, doesn’t seem to mind who chains him up. I’m pretty much of the same persuasion. I enjoy an evening spread eagled on the basement floor, and I don’t mind who secures me there, or what they do to me once I’m trapped.

A year ago, I tentatively introduced the idea to David. “You mean you’d like me to take you out of your wheelchair and chain you to the floor?” he asked. I said yes, I would. “Then let’s do it right now,” said David with unexpected enthusiasm, “I’ve dreamed about spending time in a proper dungeon, but never thought there’d be one in a big house in Dorset.”

We’ve spent many happy hours down there since that first time. He’s tied up several others of the friends who live here, and at one point had four of us all tied up together, and threatened to turn out the light and leave us all secured together. One of that bondage group was Richard, and after that particular experience he said that he would agree to David moving in. He said that first he’d have a long talk with David to ensure the security and secrecy of the place would not be compromised, and I know David said all the right things for Richard to invite him to come and live with me.

Richard writes:

I was pleased for Roy that he found such a lovely young man to love, and I feel happy that David will respect the privacy of the Lodge. David understands the open relationships we all have and seems to be ready to have various kinds of sex with any and all of us. He was astonished when Roy took him to the Lido and he encountered several of our friends stark naked. He clearly didn’t mind being naked himself, and obviously enjoyed being able to help anyone who needed help due to their extreme difficulties in getting in and out of the water. He’s a very nice young man, is relaxed around disabled men, and shows respect for us all. he’s fitted in well since he moved in with Roy and I’m very happy for Roy.

He's also become a natural friend for Jacob, our newest recruit—but I’ll leave it to Johan and Stefan to introduce you to Jacob.

Johan writes:

Yes, with Stefan’s help, I recruited Jacob, and it’s largely for him that we’re writing these stories about ourselves, as we cannot tell him in the conventional way.

But first let me introduce myself. I was born in Brussels and went to university there. I learned English at school, and continued improving at university, but my skills were mathematical. Johan comes from Leipzig, where he also went to university, and we later discovered that he had had a very similar course to mine studying mathematics.

Stefan writes:

For mathematicians, the obvious careers these days are in computing or even for those very interested in theoretical maths, the world of the Big Bang Theory. I didn’t want to go that way and saw an opportunity in London to transfer there and work for Deutsche Bank in the City.

Johan writes:

At almost the same time, I saw much the same opportunity, and so we arrived together, on the same day, to start work for the same employer. Rather like Tony and Simon, it was pretty much love at first sight. We both spoke with strong European accents, and although we both had fairly good English, we still had a long way to go before we could claim to be fluent.

Stefan writes:

We worked together and decided to rent a modest house together in South London. It was not only a very efficient arrangement for us both, but also a recognition that we had quite by accident found our life partners. I came to London for work and did not expect to meet the man I would fall in love with so easily.

Johan writes:

We worked hard and gained quick promotion at Deutsche Bank. Because I had been born in Leipzig in communist East Germany, I had learned Russian at school, and was able to use that skill at work. My promotion was faster than Stefan’s , but we were soon earning good salaries. First we were able to buy the house we were renting; then after a few years we sold that and bought a big and rather grand property in Richmond. With a big disposable income and regular generous bonuses, we had the luxury of a great deal of travel. The most important of our overseas adventures was our trip to India.

Stefan writes:

Important yes, because of our experiences in India, and especially in Mumbai, of the many beggars in the streets. Begging is an institution in Mumbai, and we were exposed to a variety of chronically disabled beggars, some of whom had extraordinarily distorted bodies. These poor souls’ bodies had been deliberately manipulated and modified when they were small children, to prepare them for a life of exposing their bizarre disability when begging, in the hope that their masters would gain greater income from the grossness of their disability.  We also saw a large number of amputees. It’s clear that quite a few of the amputees had sustained injuries caused by trains, as we saw extreme overcrowding on the commuter trains in Mumbai, and it was obvious that regularly there would be injuries and even deaths from people falling under trains.

Johan writes:

But there were also many deliberate amputees, where limbs had been cut off in order to create limbless beggars, again to attract the greatest alms from the public. Near Churchgate Station, there was a young man lying on  the pavement with very short stumps for arms and legs, lying on his back with a begging cup by his head. We were pretty sure he’d been operated on without any accident or illness and had been reduced to a torso simply to become an efficient beggar. It was not like our friend Craig, who chose to become a torso, this was a man who’d had no choice, and found himself lying in the dust and filth of the pavement, unable to move until his master came to fetch him at the end of the day.

There was one place where a causeway led to a Hindu temple on a small island. Lining the causeway was a line of beggars on either side exhibiting all kinds of body modifications, and the most noticeable for us were those who had had both legs removed. We were fascinated by the way they hand-walked, and the quiet dignity of their beautiful faces living a life entirely without legs.

Stefan writes:

We fell in love with Mumbai and had several holidays there. We stayed in Indian-style hotels and got to know the city very well. We would return and find the same crippled beggars in the same places, even if it was a year since we’d been there. And every time, we’d particularly notice the beautiful legless amputees at the temple causeway. One evening at the hotel, I asked Johan how he felt about the amputees, and he told me he was envious. “I’d love to be legless and spend my life hand walking,” he said. I embraced him long and hard as I admitted that it had become an obsession for me. We reflected that we were very wealthy, but we didn’t know how to get amputations.

Johan writes:

And that was when we found out about Richard’s community. We’d bought wheelchairs to attempt some pretending at home, but we very frustrated that we’d no idea how to get amputations. We found out about a Scottish surgeon who’s done some operations some years ago, but he’d been prevented from continuing, and even when we offered a big fee to a surgeon in Harley Street, he refused to have anything to do with us. We realised we were both suffering from BIID, but no-one we could contact seemed to acknowledge such a thing existed. From those days observing the beggars of Mumbai, we’d become completely obsessed, and every day we would talk about our desire to be amputees. Perhaps we could even find a surgeon in Mumbai, but we didn’t know how to progress that idea. Meeting Richard gave us the possibility of achieving our mutual goals. Once accepted for life in the community, we sold all our assets, giving us a very big lump sum in our joint savings. As soon as possible, we had our trip to Mexico; going together was very exciting, and we’ll never forget the day we awoke from the anaesthetic and found ourselves both to be legless. A great feeling of fulfilment came over us.

And with the sale of our assets we could pay for the building of the Lido. We did a rough drawing of the kind of thing we imagined, and Richard got the same gay architect he’d used at the beginning of the project to come and work on the idea. There was an old garage in the grounds, and by replacing that with a pool, we were able to give all our lovely friends here a great space for recreation and play. The Lido is designed to be accessible for everyone, and there’s a wide “beach” sloping down to the pool itself. The heating system keeps the place at a tropical temperature, and we’ve even brought in some palm trees to give a great atmosphere.

It was obvious whilst we were building it, that the Lido would need a pool boy, and we discussed with Richard the possibility of recruiting a new resident specifically to look after the Lido. We included a rather nice studio flat in the design for the pool boy to live in.

Stefan writes:

We used Richard’s experience to advertise for a pool boy. The advertisement said we needed a gay man to live-in and work with extremely wealthy employers, and that priority would be given to a man with disabilities. You can imagine how pleased we were to interview and appoint Jacob. We should let him tell his own story.

Jacob writes:

I was feeling rather sorry for myself when I saw the advert for a pool boy. I was very lonely and had damaged myself very severely. As a teenager, I’d experimented with pouring super-glue into my ears to see what effect it would have. At first I was very excited by the obvious loss of hearing, and I decided I’d like to become deaf. I made no attempt to learn sign language, and continued to manage at school even though my hearing was reduced.

Once I left school and got a menial job where it didn’t matter that I was a bit deaf, I couldn’t resist taking it a step further, and so I slowly added more and more superglue to each ear, and with each new drop of the stuff, I could hear less and less. Eventually I lost all hearing completely, and to this day I remain in a totally silent world. I can remember sounds and can talk as if I wasn’t deaf; and I remember music but cannot hear anything of it now. All sounds are reduced to vibrations.

I’d isolated myself and became depressed, although at the same time I liked being deaf and the feelings of being special that it gave me. In my tiny bedsit in the evenings, I’d watch television with subtitles turned on, and sit in silence. My cock would grow big from the feelings that deafness gave me, and yet the loneliness was something I didn’t like.

I took my i-pad to the interview with Johan and Stefan, so that they could writes their questions for me, and after they’d decided they’d like to have me for the job, they introduced me to Richard. For the first time, I felt I could properly enjoy my disability, not feel guilty, and live a much better life. Richard explained how I would live full time in the community, and I jumped at the chance.

I never expected I would have so many good friends, especially that I’d find them because of being disabled, and my life has been transformed. The bedsit at the Lido is very luxurious after my previous tiny place, and rarely am alone in my bed. The open sexuality of the residents in the community is wonderful. I’m very turned on by seeing all the other disabilities, and I’m hoping to experience some of the other physical challenges that my new friends deal with every day.

Richard writes:

Recently I’ve been very pleased to welcome both Jacob and David as new residents of Fulfilment Lodge, and as new friends. They are both lovely happy members of our community, bringing youth and freshness especially to us older residents, and are both unashamedly joyful in the company of so many cripples.

To be honest when I planned this lovely home for gay friends with mutual interests in self-inflicted disability, I did not anticipate the open sexual freedom which seems to have developed; but it’s all in a spirit of respect and co-operation.

I was unsure if Mike would genuinely sustain his extreme incarceration, and I’ve developed enormous respect for him. We have, as he originally requested, destroyed the clothes he was wearing when he arrived, and he literally has no personal possessions. He, more than most, has benefitted from the open sexual attitudes of us all, and he’s told me that the sexual aspects of his life were not part of his original thinking, but have greatly enhanced his life locked in the Iron Lung.

I’m extremely pleased by the generosity of Johan and Stefan in paying a very great deal for the luxurious Lido, which benefits almost all of us. I don’t swim because I never escape from my Milwaukee, and of course there’s no chance for Mike to even visit the Lido; but we all, except Mike, benefit from this oasis. We’ve offered to find a way to push Mike in his Iron Lung to the Lido, but he says he does not want this to happen. He is resolved that he’ll never leave the little room he lives in.

When Johan and Stefan first proposed the idea, I had not truly comprehended the exotic nature of what they were creating. It’s lovely to walk into the tropical atmosphere. It’s also enhanced the ways in which we can all admire one another’s physical situation. Mo won’t swim because he won’t take off his Perthes brace, but Russell likes to unstrap his KAFO’s and enjoys the others watching him strap himself back into them when he crawls out of the water.

Craig has been an inspiration to us all, as he has been determined to learn to swim, and we watch him wallowing in the water. He swims surprisingly efficiently, and we love to see his strange body with its total absence of limbs as he propels himself forward.

I also admire Charlie. He can find his way from the Lodge to the Lido without help and is a strong swimmer. It’s often necessary for someone to be in the pool to warn him when he’s about to crash into the side, but on the whole it’s obvious how much he enjoys his blindness, and the way he overcomes all his many challenges.

Finally, for me, and for everyone, seeing our amputee friends naked is a great excitement. We all openly admire the modified bodies of our amputee friends: my own lover Valentine with the lovely smooth high amputation of his left leg; Warren who has mastered walking on his knees when not wearing his prosthetic feet; Sam’s lovely amputations, giving him perfectly smooth stump ends to his arms; and of course Johan and Stefan loving their hand-walking around the Lido.

I wonder how long it will be before Jacob comes and asks for some kind of body modification. I’m so pleased that he’s finally able to enjoy his deafness, and be part of our extraordinary crippled family. And then there’s David, the only fully able-bodied member of our community. He says he’s a voyeur, and we’re happy for him admire us, but when he’s swimming with his lover Roy, I’ve seen how his eyes wander. Perhaps the day will come when he chooses to get his body changed for ever.

THE FULFILMENT CHRONICLES