Resistance 10

It was miserable outside. Condensation ran down the inside of the bus windows as the moisture from damp clothing evaporated in the muggy heat. It was impossible to see outside without constantly wiping the window for a glimpse of the passing countryside.

The bus was packed; partly because of the rain but also as it was the only public transport route to St. Cuthbert's Psychiatric Hospital. Running once a month, for most of the visitors, it was the only way to access the hospital which was tucked into a densely wooded valley many, many miles away from the nearest village.

Ian had been on the bus for over an hour as it wound it's way over mountain and heath. He had travelled up overnight on the train from the south and picked up the bus back at the village. He was exhausted and had not slept in over 20 hours. Despite his constant nodding off the rough undulating road kept him awake.

Having spent most of his life in foster care; for the last 10 years Ian had been obsessed with trying to piece together his past. In his small rucksack were the few artefacts he had managed to collect which illustrated his life. They were incredibly important to him yet he knew little of their significance or what they depicted. He had a number of old black and white photos, a heavily worn leather bound bible and a green felt patch with a picture of a saint sewn on a scrap of printed canvas.

Somewhere in these possessions his life story lay.

He was visiting St. Cuthbert's in the belief that one of his long lost relatives may have been incarcerated there some 30 years previously.

Ian was mindful that after that length of time in an institution the person may not be able to communicate but if his hunch was right he hoped to be able to recognise the person from one of the photos he had.

He could not get over how far off the beaten track St. Cuthberts was. How on earth would anyone end up here and who if anyone would visit?

Surrounded by a 30 foot high wall St. Cuthberts was on of those old Gothic type institutions so common in the Edwardian age. As the bleak grey limestone building came into view Ian thought how it was an anachronistic monolith to a bygone age and our inhumane treatment of those less fortunate than us. Yet here was a legacy of that age caring for 100 people that would have nowhere else to go.

He was thankful that we no longer dispatched people to such institutions.

As the bus drew up outside the main entrance he was impressed by the imposing facade and huge Oak door that stood under a Gothic arch.

It was almost Cathedral like with stained glass windows framing either side of the door.

The passengers began to alight and trapes up the steps in small groups. Sitting down the back Ian was one of the last to exit the bus as he followed the line past the driver.

'Leaving here sharp at 3.30 PM; you don't want to be left behind here son so make sure you are back in plenty of time'. Ian thanked him for his advice as he stepped off the bus.

As the rest of the visitors walked up the steps to the main door Ian stood and looked up at the imposing edifice that was St. Cuthbert's. He was filled with a sense of optimism but also a strange prescient sense of doom. How many poor souls had walked through those doors never to be seen again.

Putting his thoughts to the back of his mind he pressed on to catch up with the group. As he entered the building he was greeted inside the hallway by two fairly well built men in nursing whites. The visitor group had gone ahead and he had know idea where to go next.

'Is this your first time here sir?' asked one of the men. 'Ehm yes' replied Ian. 'You will need to go down to visitor registration before you can go any further I'm afraid'. As the rest of the group went on Ian was directed off the main hallway to a corridor on the left. He passed through two huge oak doors and was told to follow the corridor until he came to the registration office.

The corridor went on for some considerable distance and had old oak like pews aligned along the walls on either side. The Gothic vaulted ceiling stretched high up above the walls and every 20 feet or so a door would lead off to a room. Again the doors were solid oak with stained glass windows set in the top panels giving the entire building a monastic feel rather than a psychiatric hospital.

After 10 minutes of walking Ian spotted the word Registration painted in large black Gothic lettering on the yellow wall beside an office door. He knocked on the door feeling a little anxious. 'Enter' boomed a loud officious woman's voice. Ian entered a small stuffy office with Oak Panelling set around the walls and a large Oak desk set off to the left. Sitting in front of the desk were two red leather covered chairs. Another door led off to the right of the desk. It too was half glass above and he could see daylight shining through the frosted glass. The starkness of the light coming through the glass gave the impression that the room beyond was tiled and quite clinical.

As Ian took in his surroundings the officious voice coughed, Ahem! Behind the desk sat a rather stern yet attractive looking woman in a nurses uniform. 'Are you here for registration, young man?'. Ian nodded his head as the woman pulled a form from a drawer behind her. Sit down please. Ian took his cue and sat at the desk.

He began to explain the purpose of his visit but the Nurse seemed to have her own agenda and was more focused on completing the form. Some of the questions seemed a bit inappropriate for a visitors registration but Ian played along, eager to get over this and get to the real purpose of his visit.

After 30 mins of answering questions the nurse put the form in front of Ian and asked him to sign the bottom of the page. Once he had signed he tried again to explain the purpose of his visit. The nurse continued to ignore him and asked him to follow her as she went through to the other room off to the right. Ian was right. The room was tiled from floor to ceiling in white ceramic with an oak pew sitting below a high window that ran along the top of the wall. 'Please sit here Ian and someone will be with you shortly. The nurse went back to her office but strangely locked the door behind her leaving Ian alone in the room on his own. Being locked in a room alone in a psychiatric institution was not something he had experienced before and he was slight perturbed.

Ian was mindful that he was under time pressure and needed to see the patient and then get back for the bus. It was now 2.30 and time was pressing. He was waiting for an inordinately long time and was now struggling to stay awake. The next thing he was being shaken gently by a tall muscular female nurse. 'Ian pet wake up, it is time to go down to the ward'. He was quite groggy as he came to; caught in that twilight world between sleep and wakefulness. He had just caught the tail end of her sentence and was relieved that he was finally going to get down to the ward.

The nurse unlocked a second door and he followed her through to a long corridor. This was much more clinical and it began to feel like a hospital. As he followed the nurse down the corridor he became aware that a second female nurse had stepped in behind him.

As they progressed along the corridor they went through two locked gates that were guarded by Male warders in white uniforms.

Shortly they stopped outside a door and the first Nurse asked Ian to take a seat outside for a moment. Both nurses went into the room.

He was now seriously worried about missing the bus and was getting a little anxious. He had a habit of rubbing his hands along his thighs when anxious and he was now doing this quite vigorously.

Ten minutes later the door opened and the first nurse asked Ian to enter. As he did she locked the door behind him. He was expecting to meet a patient but instead found himself in a large room with two old fashioned ceramic white baths; one of which was filled with piping hot water. 'What is this he asked'? 'What is what'? replied the nurse. 'Why am I here? I should be visiting Agnes Grieg and I need to be back on the bus for 3.30' he replied a tad anxious.

'Now, now calm down Ian, we just want to give you a nice warm bath and get you ready before we go on to the ward'. 'Why do I need a bath' he blurted. 'Now now silly, because all new admissions need a bath before they go to the ward Ian' replied the second nurse.

'What, what yelled Ian, I am not being admitted I am here to visit my aunt. As he raised his voice another door opened and two Male orderlies entered the room. They grabbed Ian by the arms and marched him toward the bath. As they did the first nurse said 'don't be silly Ian, we all know why you are here. We will have you better in no time once you accept your illness and accept our help'. The two orderlies forced Ian onto a gurney and lay him down as the two nurses tied velcro straps around his arms and legs.

He struggled hard and tried to resist as he writhed on the gurney. From the corner of his eye he saw one of the nurses approach him with a syringe. He felt the needle go into his arm and within seconds he could feel the drug take effect as it coursed through his veins. Quickly his muscles relaxed; he became as weak as a kitten and felt like he was floating on cotton wool. The nurses removed the restraints and began to cut his clothing from his body. It was only then he noticed the plastic patient bracelet which they had placed on his arm when he nodded off in the waiting room

Pleading with them he begged that they let him go and return to the bus. His plea fell on deaf ears and within seconds he was naked and being lifted into the piping hot bath. The water seemed to take even more of his strength away and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He felt warm and loved and was losing all his cares.

The two orderlies lifted Ian from the bath and sat him in a chair as the nurses began to dry him off. Sitting on a stainless steel trolley Ian spotted a pair of old fashioned red striped flannel pyjamas. He had no doubt they were intended for him. The first nurse took the pyjama jacket and slowly began to place Ian's arms into the sleeves. Although his skin was still damp he could feel the warm flannel against his body. Combined with the effect of the drug it felt sublime and he became totally submissive as the nurse buttoned the jacket up to his neck. She then placed both his feet into the bottoms which puddled on the floor. One of the orderlies lifted him slightly in the chair as the second nurse placed an adult nappy beneath him and closed the velcro tabs. The pyjama bottoms were then pulled up and the top tucked into the bottoms as they were tied tightly around his tummy.

In 15 minutes he had gone from being an independent capable person to being a patient in a psychiatric hospital wearing institutional pyjamas a nappy and being drugged. This was all wrong, why had this happened to him?

One of the orderlies brought in a wheelchair. Before he was transferred into the chair a blue woolen dressing gown was placed upon his shoulders and blue carpet slippers on his feet. As he was lifted into the wheelchair he noticed the name St. Cuthbert's embroidered with gold thread on the pocket of the gown.

Stripped of all his possessions and his identity he was now the property of St. Cuthbert's.

Ian's journey down to the ward was like a trek back through time. Despite his drug induced state he was shocked to the point of terror at what he saw. The locked corridors and rooms were full of people in various forms of pyjamas and night attire. They moved like zombies from some horror movie and smiled at Ian as began his journey into their world. He was too stupefied from the drug to show any emotion yet he was screaming inside.

Entering a ward at the end of the corridor the orderly placed Ian beside a bed facing a window. Mustering as much energy as he could Ian lifted his head and looked out of the window. In the distance he could see the bus exit the gates of the hospital. He was trapped and had no possessions bar the institutional pyjamas and dressing gown he wore. He gently sobbed as the shock of what had just happened to him took hold.

He was committed and alone in the world and he knew no one would come for him.

Becoming Institutionalised

Three days had passed since Ian was forcibly admitted to St. Cuthberts. He had been kept in isolation throughout and was sedated regularly.

Once a day nurses Gotobed and Ratched would enter the room and gently remove Ian's pyjamas and nappy and subject him to a bed bath with warm soapy water. The drugs took the edge off his anxiety and he loved the physical attention of being undressed and bathed. Frequently he became aroused but the nurses would laugh at the evidence of his manhood as they gently washed his body. Once cleaned they would put him back in an adult nappy and select a clean pair of pyjamas for him to wear. They would then top up his sedation and lift him into the day chair by the bed. Once there they would place his slippers on his feet and drape his institutional dressing gown over his shoulders. He would then be left to ruminate and contemplate his existence and the life that had been taken from him for the remainder of the day. Sitting by the window watching people come and go from the hospital, knowing he could never leave, caused great anxiety. He would revert to type and expressed his anxiety by rubbing his hands along his thighs. His one comfort was the softness of the pyjamas as he caressed his legs. Occasionally he had tried to caress his manhood but the sedation, nappy, dressing gown and copious layers of winceyette limited his capacity to feel anything.

Ian knew he was losing himself and becoming a patient; his behaviour was that of an inmate of a psychiatric institution but there was nothing he could do.

A couple of times a day a slot in the door would open and he knew he was being observed by someone.

One day after being bathed and changed into a pair of red, grey and white striped pyjamas nurse Gotobed and Ratched dressed him in his dressing gown and placed him in a wheelchair.

'Doctor Monroe thinks it is time to move you to a general ward, won't that be better?' Asked nurse Gotobed. 'We have a wonderful quiet corner bed set up for you and at least you will have some company'. Ian was becoming used to the solitude and the thought of going into a general ward was quite alarming. He became increasingly agitated and expressed that he did not want to leave. Nurse Ratched tried to calm him as nurse Gotobed filled a syringe with more sedative. 'Don't give me anymore of that he begged I don't want to be here you have no right to keep me here'. Gotobed pulled up his dressing gown and pyjama sleeve and administered the sedative. As the additional dose kicked in Ian began to drift off to sleep. He had limited awareness of his surroundings as he was moved onto the ward and put to bed.

After many, many hours Ian began to wake up. He was incredibly groggy and weak and slowly realised he was in the general ward. It was dark outside but a few overhead bed lights dimly lit the ward. The ward was incredibly quiet but standing on either side of his bed were two female patients. Both dressed in pink floral wincyette pyjamas and pink candlewick house coats with 'Property of St. Cuthberts' embroidered on a chest pocket.

One of the patients was slowly caressing Ian's pyjama clad arm which sat atop the blankets.

'Oh what beautiful pyjamas' she said. 'Not really suitable for such a new patient are they?'

Ian could not muster the words to respond. He detect a faint smell of carbolic soap which reminded him of a time when he lived with his grandparents. It brought back comforting and warm memories.

He was distracted by the memories and smell and did not notice that the ladies had pulled the blankets back from the bed revealing his pyjama clad body.

With gentle yet deftly swift movements the ladies began to undress him. He did not have the energy to resist and seconds later he was lying naked on the bed with just his nappy to protect his modesty. As his pyjamas sat on the end of the bed the first patient began to undress. She removed her house coat first and then slipped off her pyjama bottoms. She had beautifully slender and sallow legs and Ian was becoming uncomfortably aroused beneath his nappy. She then took his pyjama bottoms and began to step into them pulling them up and tying the cord high above her slender waist. Slowly she unbuttoned her pyjama jacket and slipped it off her shoulders.

She swapped her jacket for his and hid her beautiful bosom beneath the voluminous layers of winceyette he had just been wearing.

Intriguingly she then took the floral pyjama jacket and began to slip it over Ian's right arm and shoulders. The top still radiated the warmth of her body and smell of carbolic soap as she placed his other arm into the sleeve. Then pulling the jacket down the sides of his torso he shivered as her warm hand and the wincyette caressed his skin. She buttoned the tiny pink pearl buttons all the way up to his neck. The tightness around his neck was somewhat restrictive yet arousing. Lifting the bottoms she slid them up over his legs and passed his now engorged member which lay hidden beneath his nappy.

Ian looked down the length of his body. He was taken aback at how feminine he looked and how he liked what he saw. The pyjamas were beautifully soft and warm; much softer than those which had just been removed from his body. The winceyette had been washed so often there were little soft cotton baubles forming on the surface of the fabric.

As Ian enjoyed the sensation the patients drew the blankets up over his body and placed his pink pyjama clad arms atop the blankets. He was incredibly relaxed and began to drift off to sleep.

He awoke to the noise of a busy ward and nurse Gotobed and a Male doctor standing beside him.

'Hmm, said the doctor, this is a definite deterioration I'm afraid'. 'It would appear the patient has regressed back to his childhood and is expressing this outwardly in his preference for womens night attire'. Ian went to speak but nurse Gotobed placed her index finger across his mouth to sush him. 'Not while doctor is speaking', she whispered.

'I'm afraid the only safe course of action at this point is to pander to the patients preference and not disrupt his illusion. I prescribe we continue with sedation and ensure he only wears women's pyjamas for the foreseeable future'. Ian was desperate to speak and express the injustice of his incarceration.

As the doctor snapped his pen and turned to leave nurse Gotobed pressed her hand upon Ian's lips and smiling whispered in Ian's ear 'oh what fun we and the other ladies of the ward are going to have dressing you in feminine pyjamas. We have always dreamt of having a male Barbie doll to dress and play with all day. You'll be our little darling'.