Becoming Submissive

Peter's wife Felicity had been pressing him for some months to take time off work. She could see how exhausted he was since he had taken on the new role. Weeks had passed since he had slept well, his diet was atrocious and he'd lost considerable weight with the stress of his new job.

On numerous occasions she'd found him asleep on the sofa, still in his suit with a whiskey tumbler about to drop from his hand. She would remove his shoes, loosen his tie, unbutton his shirt and throw a wool blanket over him.

Felicity awoke around two am to the sound of the TV. As normal Peter was not in bed, but something was niggling her and she got up. She put her soft velour dressing gown over her rather frumpy white winceyette pyjamas with the tiny blue cornflowers and crept down stairs.

Peter and Felicity were an unusual couple. He was quite an outgoing person who liked company and his clothes. Felicity on the other hand was a demure and introspective person who feigned company and was quite dated in her dress. She had tried for years to change Peter and regularly bought him clothes more in keeping with her fashion sense. Clothes she would love for him to wear, but he never took to her style. Felicity had a dresser full of nice clothes she had bought for Peter but which he had refused to wear. However she kept them in the hope that one day he would dress as she wished.

On this night she had found him lying prone on the sofa fully awake staring at the TV. She asked him to go to bed but he just looked at her and began to sob uncontrollably. Shaken by his demeanour she hugged him and held him as he sobbed for more than an hour. Whispering softly in his ear she tried to calm and soothe him.

Eventually, as his sobbing began to subside, she gently took his hand and began to guide him to bed. 'Come darling, you need a good night's sleep, it will all be better in the morning'. Felicity sat him on the bed and began to remove his clothes. It was an intimate act of care which she had not done in years. Slowly she undid his tie and unbuttoned and removed his shirt. She slipped off his socks and trousers. Sitting there in his underpants she was shocked when she saw just how much weight he had lost. He had been coming to bed so late and leaving so early she had not seen his body in months. Worried for his health, and to ensure he stayed warm, she took out a pair of traditional striped Derek Rose winceyette pyjamas from the dresser. She had bought Peter numerous pairs of traditional pyjamas over the years, but he had never taken to nightwear, preferring to sleep naked. In Felicity's mind he was well past such juvenile behaviour and should be attired at night like the middle aged gentlemen he was.

Peter offered no resistance as she slowly drew the soft, thick winceyette pyjama top up over his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Still sitting on the bed, she buttoned the top button and closed the pyjama jacket. She then stood him up and dropped his white cotton Y fronts. Stepping him into the pyjama bottoms she pulled them gently up over his legs and tucked the jacket into the bottoms before tying the chorded waist. Peter offered no resistance and not once uttered a word of complaint. This was most concerning to Felicity as normally Peter would be strong willed and would ridicule such traditional pyjamas. Was his acceptance an indication of just how broken Peter had become?

Looking at his emaciated body in the now oversized pyjamas she really began to worry about him and his distant, stooped demeanour. Not once did he object at being undressed or interject as she spoke soothing words. She pulled back the duvet and helped him into bed. Then pulling up the duvet she lay beside him caressing his back until he fell asleep sobbing.

At 11.00 am the following morning Peter was still asleep. Felicity had called work at 9.30 to let them know he would not be in today but by 11.30 she was seriously concerned. She had tried to wake Peter and while he did respond to her gentle voice he slipped quickly back into sleep. At 12.00 she called the family doctor to see if she would do a house call. The doctor agreed to call around 3.30.

Doctor Kendal arrived at exactly 3.30 pm. Felicity loved the punctuality of Dr. Kendal. For many years she had been frustrated by the tardiness of her previous GP but having found an all-female practice she was enamoured by their professionalism and their understanding of a frustrated housewife.

Felicity explained how Peter had been working so hard and the stress he had been under. She accompanied Dr. Kendal to his bedside and gently tried to awake him. Peter opened his eyes, but they looked lost and distant. Dr. Kendal asked if she could examine Peter alone. "Of course, doctor, I will put the kettle on." Felicity left the room and waited anxiously down stairs. After half an hour she could hear Dr. Kendal leave the bedroom.

Felicity met her at the bottom of the stairs and asked, "Well doctor how is he?"

"I'm afraid Peter is having a severe anxiety attack and is in a catatonic state. I gave him a sedative and called an ambulance. I would like him to be admitted into hospital for a few days to be assessed." Felicity began to shudder and sob, she felt guilty for not recognising Peter's obvious ill health.

"Now, now Felicity, don't fret. We will have him right in no time. The ambulance will be here shortly, so I'd like you to go upstairs and pack a few things. He'll need some clean pyjamas, a dressing gown, slippers, and a shaving kit. Would you be able to fetch these now?" Dr. Kendal knew that giving Felicity a task would help her deal with the stress of the situation.

"Yes of course Doctor, Peter was never a man for pyjamas or slippers, but I have been buying him some lovely nightwear over the years and I have all he needs in his dresser up stairs." Felicity hastened upstairs and with a little flutter of guilty joy she began to pack a bag for Peter. At last, all the lovely pyjamas she had bought would get some use. From the wardrobe she took out a brand new heavy pure wool dressing gown and navy sheepskin slippers which she had purchased some years ago.

Shortly after, Felicity could hear the ambulance arrive and Dr Kendal directed the paramedics up the stairs. They brought a light wheelchair and slowly lifted Peter from the bed wrapping a light fleece blanket around him as they strapped him in. The sedative had now fully taken hold and Peter was unconscious throughout the procedure. Gently they wheeled him down the stairs and out to the ambulance.

"Should I go with him?" asked Felicity.

"No pet", answered Dr. Kendal. "Give the ambulance men Peter's bag and they will take good care of him, you come with me now and we will have a nice cup of tea." With that Felicity handed the bag of nightwear to one of the paramedics and the door closed. Her last view of Peter was of him sitting back in the chair, head stooped on his chest and a little dribble of saliva pooling on his striped winceyette pyjama top.

Felicity and Dr. Kendal retired to the kitchen as the ambulance pulled away. "What will happen to him Doctor, where will they take him?" asked Felicity. "They will take him to St. Cuthbert's psychiatric hospital. He will spend a few days there and it will give us time to undertake a full assessment. Best that you don't visit for a while and allow him to settle in. I promise he will be a new man when he returns. Now pet, I just need you to sign a couple of forms so we can run our tests." Felicity was anxious and worried about Peter but trusted Doctor Kendal and her calm reassuring voice. She signed the papers without reading them and was relieved to have Peter under Dr. Kendal's care.

Peter was mildly aware of what was happening to him. He was utterly exhausted, and the sedative had completely drained the last vestige of his energy and any will to resist. He simply wanted to sleep. When he arrived at the hospital he was met at the steps by two nurses dressed in starched nursing whites and a burly male orderly dressed in white surgical scrubs.

The paramedics handed Peter over to the nurses with his belongings. "Now Peter let's get you settled and ready for bed." They transferred Peter to a hospital gurney and began to wheel him through the tiled clinical corridors.

Built in the 1920s, St. Cuthbert's was a bleak mock gothic establishment that echoed the sounds of those that had been incarcerated for decades. Today it was promoted as a modern, friendly psychiatric institution but locally it was still known as the big house that you didn't want to visit.

Peter arrived at a room with a single bed and an en suite bathroom. It was warm, comfortable, and modern. One of the nurses rolled back the blue cotton blankets and sheet and prepared the bed. Together the nurses and the orderly slid Peter from the gurney to the bed and tucked him in. As one of the nurses, nurse Parker, unpacked Peter's belongings she commented on his pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown. She noted how refreshing it was to see a man suitably attired and not wearing those scruffy jersey tee shirt and lounge pants sets which had become so common today. "You must have a very caring wife Peter, for her to buy you such beautiful nightwear. Now, you rest up and relax and we will come back later to do a few checks."

As the nurses left the room, they took the gurney and locked the door. Peter quickly fell into a deep sleep in the warmth of the bed and faintly sterile yet comforting smell of disinfectant.

As the first evening of Peter's stay wore on, nurse Parker returned on a number of occasions to check on him. Peter slept through the entire night and at seven AM a male orderly entered the room with a breakfast tray. Peter was awake and sitting up slightly in the bed. "Where am I?" he asked in a low broken voice. "How, how did I get here, who undressed me?"

The orderly placed the tray on the over bed table and wheeled it in front of Peter. "You are in St. Cuthberts hospital Peter, you had a bit of a turn. Are you hungry?" Peter nodded his head but didn't have the strength to push himself up. He felt exhausted, weak and groggy. The orderly helped him sit up more in the bed. "Would you like some help eating?" Peter nodded his head. With that the orderly offered Peter a soggy spoon of cornflakes. He felt degraded at having to be assisted with eating. The food also reminded him of the food his father was given in the care home. Despite his mild disgust, Peter swallowed all he was given; he was ravenous.

Having eaten and regained some energy Peter wanted to get out of bed. "No Peter, you must stay here until one of the nurses comes to help you up." With that the orderly cleaned up the tray and left the room. Peter heard the door lock as it closed. This time the sound alarmed him, why would they lock the door?

Despite his concern, Peter was so exhausted he soon slipped back into sleep. While he slept two nurses entered his room. One took his temperature and blood pressure while the other slipped a patient ID bracelet on his right wrist. He slowly began to wake as the cuff of the blood pressure monitor began to constrict against his arm. "Good morning dear, how are we this morning?"

Peter could barely talk but in a low voice he responded, "I'm OK thanks, where are my clothes when can I go home?"

"Don't fret about clothes Pet, you won't need them for a while, you need to stay with us for some time as we assess your condition. But don't worry about a thing, nurse Rachet and I will take care of all your needs. Now, Dr. Kendal has prescribed these pills for you. Take these like a good man and then we will take you down for a nice hot bath and get you all cleaned up." Peter swallowed the tablets as directed. The nurses then helped him out of bed and into a wheelchair. Shortly after a burly orderly entered the room. "Now Peter, John here will take you down to the washroom. We will join you in a few moments once we collect a few things."

Peter had no recollection of the hospital as he was wheeled through a long green and cream tiled corridor. He was still groggy and weak but alert enough to notice some detail. They entered a lift and descended two floors and shortly arrived in a large bathroom. The bath was already full of steaming water.

With little finesse John began to remove Peter's pyjama top and discarded it into a green plastic bag marked Patient Property. He then untied Peter's pyjama bottoms and helped him stand. As he did the bottoms slid down his legs and pooled on the floor. Peter was embarrassed by his nakedness and how easily he had been denuded but he had no energy to resist or object. John helped him step into the piping hot bath. As he settled into the luxury of the deep hot water John threw Peter's pyjama bottoms into the bag with his top and took them away. Peter wondered what would happen next, he was anxious but relieved that something was happening. He had been living through hell for months and had slowly become incapable of making a decision. For months now he had been bullied at work by a new female boss and had become an object of ridicule in her eyes and those of his colleagues.

As he relaxed and thought about his situation the two nurses entered the room: both wearing plastic aprons over their crisp nursing whites. One carried a bundle of clothing and the other a bundle of towels. They proceeded to wash and scrub Peter's body. There was no orifice left un scrubbed and Peter's body tingled from the vigorous wash.

"Now Peter, step out of the bath into this chair and we will get you dried off." As he did Nurse Ratchet wrapped him in a large bath towel and began to pat him dry. He shivered away from the heat of the water but enjoyed the pampering. Nurse Ratchet sprinkled talcum powder on his genitals, his bottom and under his arms. "Now Pet, I know this must seem degrading, but this talc is medicinal and will stop you from getting a rash, now let's get you dressed, shall we? We have a lovely fresh pair of soft flannel hospital pyjamas ready for you to slip into."

"I don't normally wear pyjamas, can't I wear my own clothes?" Peter asked. "I'm afraid not dear", answered Nurse Ratchet. "Your wife has signed some paperwork that gives us the right to keep you here indefinitely and until we have done a full psychiatric assessment you will be required to wear hospital pyjamas. But don't fret dear, you will be surprised at how quickly you will take to wearing pjs all day and slip into the hospital routine."

"Now let's pop these on shall we?" With that, Nurse Ratchet shook out the pyjama jacket and opened the buttons. Peter was a little disturbed at the idea of having to wear institutional pyjamas. They were white flannel with a dark blue paisley pattern and a navy cotton collar. The frumpy, traditional type Felicity had spent years trying to get him to wear; how ironic he thought.

Placing the pyjama jacket over his shrunken shoulders Nurse Ratchet slipped his arms into the sleeves and buttoned up the top. Taking the bottoms, she made a little well of flannel on the floor and stepped his feet into the legs one at a time. "Now, if you can stand up we will pull up your bottoms." Peter stood shakily and put his arms on Nurse Ratchet's shoulders. She slowly pulled the bottoms up over his legs and past his groin. To his surprise Peter found it quite an arousing act. The pyjamas were warm and the fabric was exquisitely soft but despite the sensual experience there was no activity in his groin, which was odd, he thought.

Next, Nurse Ratchet placed a soft warm navy velour dressing gown over his shoulders and slid his arms into the sleeves. Embroidered on the left side in bright emerald green thread were the words 'Property of St. Cuthbert's'. Was that Peter's fate, he wondered?

"Where is the belt", he asked. "I'm sorry dear, you don't get a belt as you are on suicide watch for a while." The final part of Peter's new institutional uniform was a pair of navy velour slippers with a Velcro cross over closing. Peter felt vulnerable and undignified in his new attire. He immediately felt old. "Please can I get some clothes?", he asked. "Is this really necessary?" He was dressed in a manner that Felicity would love but he felt ridiculous, disempowered and slight.

"I'm afraid dear you will be confined to hospital pyjamas until your doctor deems otherwise. The pyjamas are an indication of your new standing as a certified patient. When staff, patients and visitors see you dressed in these beautiful pyjamas, they will know immediately that you are a pitiful inmate here and will look upon you with sympathy. Ah the poor dear, God bless him, isn't it tragic. They will question everything you say no matter how lucid as if you are mad. You'll find it utterly frustrating, and it will undermine your confidence and ability. Your new reality Peter is that in a very short time you will become institutionalised, and it will be almost impossible for you to leave here and return to a normal life."

Nurse Ratchet's words were cruel and designed to raise Peter's level of anxiety. He immediately became agitated and began to demand to see his wife. "I want to see my wife he shouted, you can't do this to me?"

Nurse Ratchet had elicited just the response she wanted. She took a prepared syringe from a stainless-steel trolley and with Nurse Parker holding Peter's arm, administered a sedative. "No, no he whimpered, please don't do this?" As the sedative coursed through his veins Peter could feel his strength waning and a warm fuzzy feeling take hold of his body. He slipped into the waiting wheelchair and succumbed to his fate. He was now an inmate and a ward of St. Cuthbert's. Catching a glimpse of himself dressed in his hospital pyjamas he realised his life would never be the same again.