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Market Research I’d been doing the occasional bit of Market Research for the past few years. It helped supplement my pension and the lady who owned the company was very nice keeping me in mind for several major studies and investigations. Hillary Crown Partnership was the name of her company and the lady herself was a nice middle-aged woman who looked after her clients very well. I’d been involved in some wonderful campaigns and had occasionally seen the result of those campaigns appear on TV advertising a few months or years later on. Of course it wasn’t all just reviewing brands for Supermarkets, or looking at what advert appeals to which section of the public, no, I’d been involved in political focus groups and assorted things I’d had to sign an NDA (None Disclosure Agreement) to even be considered for participation. Yes it was always very special when I got a call from Hillary and she might hint at the assignment, which was always tempting for me as I had precious little else going on in my life. My partner Sam died nine years ago and I had no family and very few friends, we’d lived a pretty cellular life that perhaps a hermit would have been proud of. Anyway, after his death and the opportunity to be involved in this Market Research business came along, I jumped at the chance to give me something, even just occasionally, to cling on to. * This one I’m about to undertake is another of those ‘secret’ campaigns where a NDA was required before I could even be considered. Hillary had said that it was aimed at the ‘over 65s’ and she thought I’d be an ideal contributor. Now, I’m actually 71 but I flatter myself I can get away with being in my late 50s, but I could just be fooling myself. However, one or two people have commented on the fact I don’t look my age and appear younger so if nothing else it’s boosted my ego. I put it down to never having children but who’s to say? Having said that, I do have an occasional heart flutter, the rheumatoid arthritis makes my knees ache on a wet day, my fingers lack too much manipulation so I now can only write in a spidery scrawl, I’m slightly incontinent (especially at night) and I’m on the verge of Type 2 diabetes, so, nothing to write home about. Oh, except, I still have a full head of hair. I had to fill in a questionnaire before the meeting but Hillary had insisted it was most important that our answers were as truthful as possible. It was mainly a sort of a walk down memory lane. Our favourite music, movie, holiday and various other memory related questions. They also asked us to make a short video of ‘a typical day’. I sent a very short one of me in my pyjamas getting up, making a pot of tea and telling whoever would be viewing it to rewind and play three more times and then I went back to bed. I thought it was fun (though unfortunately truer than I meant it to be) and hoped they’d get the gag. They did and I was accepted onto the research programme, although for what wasn’t disclosed except it was for the benefit of the elderly. Which I thought was a good planning strategy as that was an ever increasing number of the population. * There were twenty of us that congregated in Meeting Room 1 (the largest) at a hotel in town. Surprisingly, the people who greeted us were all quite young and had that well-groomed look that we of a certain age and disposition quite liked. Their attitude was both welcoming and friendly and there was tea, coffee and biscuits available throughout what was supposed to be a one hour ‘introductory event’. For our participation we’d receive a ‘thank you’ of £60 (about the going rate) but as the programme progressed, if you were still involved then more would be on offer. Just what the final amount might be was kept under wraps. I was amazed at the cross-section of us old age pensioners (OAP) that they’d gathered. Of course I didn’t know anyone but a few were already chatting to each other as if they’d known each other all their lives, whilst I sat quietly on the outskirts just watching the interaction. Ben, or so it said on his badge, which incidentally we were all wearing to identify ourselves, sidled up and asked if I was okay. “Fine, fine, just not used to so many old people all in one place.” I shrugged. “Not one for bingo then,” he joked. I gave him one of my wry and knowing grimaces and hoped he’d understand. Now this may sound silly, and maybe it is, but in my head I don’t feel like a seventy-one year old. Yes, even with all the accompanying aches and pains I just don’t see myself the age I am. Since Sam died I’ve let my mind wander and many times I’ve enjoyed being childish, watching kids TV programmes and I even bought myself a LEGO set, which I actually enjoy building up. Another, possibly sad fact is, since Sam died, I sleep with a three foot tall teddy bear which I call Sammy. I also wear protection because, as I’ve implied, I can be slightly incontinent. But enough about my proclivities, as soon as I’m with other oldies, and they’re talking about families and grand-kids, I feel weird because I’m not part of that ‘team’, I’m on the loners team and then that’s what makes me feel old. I can’t quite explain it but suddenly a gloom and inevitability of impending death surrounds me and I... well... it’s just a peculiar feeling. “Not one for social groups then?” Ben enquired with his practised professional gentle interrogation. “Not really, hate small talk and general jibber-jabber... sorry.” “No, no, we know this isn’t for everyone and to be honest, that’s the kind of feedback we’re after.” I looked at him suspiciously because I know from past research groups I’ve been involved with, that is just what they want – loads and loads of opinions and feedback. If you don’t talk or have an opinion you’re generally no use to them and you don’t get asked back. “Oh well, I’ll try and be forthcoming in my assessment of whatever it is your company is offering.” I smiled my usual non-committal smile and he just patted my shoulder and disappeared. Meanwhile, I went over, got myself a cup of tea and a couple of custard creams and wondered back to find a seat for the start of the meeting. * Ben, Sabrina, Asim, Angela and Cordulla where the five young people who were our leaders as, after we all introduced ourselves, we were broken up into groups of four with one of them keeping the research questions on track. Ben was in charge of my little group of two males and two females. I didn’t mind but wondered if, as I’m gay and there were quite a few ‘related’ questions, if I’d be inhibited from answering ‘honestly’. The questionnaire was the basis so we started easily enough - what sort of feelings did our favourite music, movie or memory evoke. We had a wide selection of tastes in music so wasn’t sure the research group would get much from that but the two ladies, Joan and Greta’s favourite movies were RomComs (I can’t remember the titles), the other chap’s was Ben Hur and mine was Home Alone. We all then looked to see the reaction of Ben (not Hur). He had that practised and understanding smile on his face, he wasn’t giving anything away. Anyway, that part was informal but then we went onto what were our feelings about getting old. The two old ladies said they didn’t mind as they had between them a family of ten children, ten grandchildren and two great grandchildren and it was they that kept them ‘young at heart’. The other guy, Douglas, who was seventy six, was a bit like me, less forth-coming but was also alone, although he’d been married to Hilda for over forty-four years and had three grown-up kids he rarely saw... them having moved to different parts of the country. He said in a less than candid moment he was just waiting for death as he hated being alone in his big house. When Ben asked if he’d ever thought about selling up and moving into sheltered housing he looked glum and said no - it was where his memories were. I heard the two ladies sigh at this revelation and, from the comments made; I could see they were determined to get a little group together to help support him. For me, I said that, as we lived a less than conventional life, Sam and I were used to being alone so, being alone now didn’t worry me. I’m not sure if they knew I was lying but there were nods and sighs from our little quintet. To be honest there’s many a night when I can let myself get so depressed the last thing I want is to wake up in the morning. Of course I do and, after changing if I’ve got a wet nappy to deal with, try and think of things to occupy myself, which often is little more than watching TV or listening to my collection of albums. Sometimes the music of my youth can get me quite excited at memories of past concerts and festivals I attended with mates or with Sam, but then I just wish he was still with me and I get all maudlin. Even as the others were talking I slipped back to memories I had of the two of us together. It wasn’t easy being a gay couple at the beginning of our relationship but thankfully it did get easier. Although we were not in the forefront of Gay Rights, we both contributed what we could. * We were in our mid-twenties when we met, Sam was older by a couple of years. I’d lived abroad for a few years and it was whilst there I realised how gay I was. There were quite a few ‘experimentations’ – some loving, some painful and some downright kinky (or so I thought in my naiveté) although now they just seem like a sort of ‘rites of passage’. After working for a couple of years straight from school, and being bored out of my mind, I went to join my brother who was a volunteer teacher in Africa. My idea was to spend a couple of weeks over Christmas with him and then hitch from where he was based down to Cape Town and possibly get a job on ship or yacht to take me to my next (unknown) destination. I wanted adventure and decided if I didn’t do it now, then I’d never do it. So resigned my job, checked my bank account and said farewell to mum and hoped for the best. I don’t suppose it’s something many people do these days, the world has got a lot more dangerous, but back then, it wasn’t so bad. As I said, I met quite a few people on my journey and fairly early on, in the back of a bar in Bulawayo, my naïve young cock was sucked by a forty-odd year-old farmer called Wilf who invited me back to stay overnight. Despite my doubt (and terror) about the prospect he was so insistent that after a few beers I accepted his offer. That night I lost my virginity... more than once if that’s possible. We were in the middle of nowhere, his house was nothing but a shack, so my screams as I was introduced to the ‘pleasures’ of anal went unheard... except possibly by some local wild animals, which if I remember correctly were also howling loudly as they had sex. Of course, the first time is rarely forgotten even if you’ve tried to bury it as deep as possible, it will still bounce back to haunt you. However, as I remembered that night yet another occasion came flooding back when I was in a different town and somehow I’d become the object of a local celebrity’s attention. That wasn’t as special as it sounds because the populous was so small, and where everyone knew everyone else (and their business) a new face was bound to attract attention. Now, although he was much older (mid to late fifties) I was flattered and as he was nice, polite and promised nothing untoward would happen (and I’d been hitch-hiking and living in a small pup-tent for a few weeks so was desperate for a hot bath) I took up his offer. Okay, so, despite having had a couple of ‘experiences’ on my hitch-hiking journey up to that point, I wouldn’t say I was an expert and still unbelievably unsophisticated. After a wonderful hot shower in his luxurious bathroom I returned to find he’d set out on the bed some fresh items of clothing for me to wear. He sat there beaming as he invited me over to join him and I was convinced he wanted my bum because of the eager smile I received as I arrived wearing only a towel. At that time in my life there were no love handles or anything but soft to firm young muscles but even softer skin. As a naïve, five foot eight and ‘cute’ twenty year old, with flowing curly blond hair and ‘lovely green eyes’ (said to me by a girl who was desperate to get into this then eighteen year old’s pants) there was an innocence to me that others found very attractive. However, he patted the bed next to him and invited me to lie out on a soft foam pad that was there. It had cute little characters and was plainly something for a baby or toddler and had some white cotton material draped over it. The thing is, and I’m sorry if you think I lacked any gumption at all, but I felt I owed him something for offering me a place to stay for a couple of days (which is what he suggested) so thought “Why not”? Astonishingly, he flipped the towel away and poured oil onto my crotch and gently rubbed it in. Then shook baby powder all over the same area and put me in pre-prepared folds of material, which he pulled up between my legs and fastened into place. Now I was stunned because I had reacted, well my dick had, to his gentle caress but was struck dumb and wasn’t sure what to do as he rubbed my hardening cock through the fabric... though only for a few seconds. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” He smiled as he gently made sure the material fitted around me perfectly. I wasn’t but my cock didn’t know that and I just didn’t know what to do. I was wearing a thick white terry fabric nappy and he was cooing at me as if I was a little baby. I lay there mortified... that is until he blew a huge raspberry on my powdered tummy and that set me off giggling. After that he had me parading around his home wearing just the nappy, which he said brought back happy memories for him. He never explained what those memories were. Now, the outcome of this encounter was that I ended up staying with him for a week and the only stipulation was that I wore a nappy the entire time. As it was hot most of the time I wore shorts, which he liked as they were quite short (as was the fashion at the time), so I wasn’t fooling anyone if I’d try to deny anything... the bulge and the obvious fabric occasionally on show below my shorts leg giving the game away. Thankfully, no one made much in the way of nasty comments and I did get quite a number of similar offers from gentlemen of a certain age. I suppose I looked cute, perhaps even stunning and for some unknown reason didn’t actually mind the attention. His house was fantastic, he treated me with kindness and understanding and when we were alone and not meeting his very influential friends, who all seemed to know the deal; even if I pretended I didn’t, he never once suggested or instigated having sex. Kenneth was his name and although there was no sex there were plenty of hugs. He just loved patting the thick padding and hugging me tightly and say stuff like “Oh Gordy, sweetness, you don’t know just what you’re doing for me.” He just wanted a ‘boy’ he could look after and I quickly found, curling up in his arms on a night, watching TV and sucking juice or milk from a bottle quite a lovely experience. He liked me to wet my padding though wasn’t keen on any messing, although at one point did say that if I wanted to he wouldn’t mind. The thought of walking around anywhere with a full nappy I thought was quite disgusting so avoided that as much as possible. Except, one morning (the night before we’d had a very hot curry and I hadn’t taken to it) I didn’t get to the toilet in time and between the bedroom and the bathroom, my bowel decided it needed urgent emptying. I was very embarrassed though he took it in his stride and had me cleaned up and in another nappy with what seemed like practised ease. As a child you don’t necessarily remember the times mummy or daddy or someone changes your messy nappy but at twenty it certainly left an impression. At the time I kept telling myself how wrong this was but back then I was a ‘people pleaser’ and often put other’s needs before my own. I thought he was a strange and pervy bastard when I recounted this story to anyone else, but in truth, he was as gentle and as loving as anyone I’d ever known. Certainly compared to that painful first night in Bulawayo... I was still feeling sore a good week after I hitch-hiked out of that town. Anyway, when I returned back to the UK, I nervously called in at the town’s only gay pub and saw Sam in the middle of a group of guys and they were laughing and joking... * With that memory I welled-up but tried to hide it from the others in our small focus group. That image of my young and handsome boyfriend, later, many years later, to become my Civil Partner, holding the entire group in hilarious rapture as he told one of his many, many amusing anecdotes to me he was like a beacon. I may have had some experience of reacting to people but I’d never felt such a rush of emotion as I watched him time and time again reduce his audience into fits of laughter. He saw me sitting alone and came over and dragged me protesting into that group. Up until then it was the best night of my life. After a few weeks of seeing him in the pub I eventually dared ask him out to a party that one of the lads was holding. He agreed and when we arrived at the student’s hall of residence where it was being held, and at the specified time, we were the first ones there. Under a fairly inactive glitter-ball we stole our first nervous kiss and, after another fifteen minutes when still no one else arrived he suggested we go back to his place and have a party of our own. That night was the next best night ever. He taught me not to rush things, I taught him... “And what about you Gordon?” I came out of my reflections to see Ben and the other’s looking at me and waiting on my reply. I had no idea what the question had been. “Sorry, sorry, just, erm... you know...uuummm...” “That’s alright Gordon we know that we’re dragging up memories and sometimes they are more important than what we’re talking about.” He nodded as if he understood so I nodded back and gave my full attention. * Later, when the hour was up and Ben was thanking everyone for their attendance, just as I was about to shuffle out he asked me to stay behind for a moment as there was something he wanted to ask about on my questionnaire. The two ladies had taken to Doug and as they exited looked back at me with warm smiles and said they hoped they’d answered all the questions correctly and added to the research. Ben was full of praise for their contributions. “Okay, Gordon, I’m sure this isn’t what you might have imagined.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke, “But we’d like you to go on to the next round of interviews... if you’d like to of course.” “Well, to be honest, I’m not sure what you gleaned from what you’ve just heard. I mean there were no products discussed, no advertising campaign, no....” “You’re correct of course,” he interrupted, “but we are planning something which we hope will be for the benefit of some members of the elderly... but we need people like you to help.” He touched my arm as if he was imploring me to continue. “Of course, there is an extra bonus if you do continue AND, if you complete the course, you will be one of the first to benefit from our programme. “What’s the programme?” “Ah, that’s just the trouble... I can’t tell you just yet but I can promise you this... it is revolutionary.” “When would you want me to start?” “Well, if you’re doing nothing at the moment then we can start immediately.” He seemed excited to offer this option. It was true I had nothing else on and could quite happily sink another tea and a few biscuits but thought for a few moments longer before I agreed. “Oh, that’s fantastic Gordon, you won’t regret this.” Ben seemed relieved. He pointed to another room further down the hall and there were just one other person sat at the table with a menu.” “What’s all this?” I enquired. “Well, I thought we might all get to know you and Elsie here a little better over lunch. What do you say?” “Are there no others joining us?” “Let’s just say, at the moment, you two are the only ones who made it to take part in the next phase.” I suppose they wanted us to feel we were special and I saw Elsie straighten her back and wiggled demurely as if to prove that they were correct in their assumption. Yes indeed, Elsie knew she was special. So eighteen down and it was just us two but we still had no idea what on Earth we were selected for. The only thing they kept insisting is that it was for the benefit of the elderly and that we’d proved, by our open answers so far, to be the type of people they would need for this to progress any further. So, although it appeared to make little sense I was happy to get a free lunch anytime so happily sat down and perused the proffered menu. I thought I might struggle with the steak so settled on Salmon – lime and coriander coated crumbs in a light soy sauce - or some such thing. I thought I was going to enjoy the next stage if they were going to feed us so royally. The five of them, and the two of us sat around the table and they seemed happy to let us reminisce as much as we liked “After all,” they reminded us, “this was what the programme was all about.” However, we still had no idea what that was... though lunch was superb. ** tbc

Ashes to Ashes I lay in the bath contemplating my existence. These days I don’t get much chance to luxuriate in a deep warm sudsy bath but this was a ‘special occasion’. My latest caregiver had no idea what the ‘special occasion’ was about nor did they know not to leave me alone. So now, when I had time to myself, I was able to think. I looked along my body. I’d like to say it had served me well but, the saggy aged skin, the tumescence I called a stomach and the fact that it had been three years since I’d be able to walk unaided made me think about death. My partner had passed away almost ten years previously and I’d become a cynical, boring, aggressive old twat. I knew that because my last caregiver was only too pleased to call me that to my face. I didn’t mind, she was right. However, now I had time I wondered to myself how easy would it be to disappear under the water and drown? Would I slip easily into a pleasant sleep, awash in the bubbly fragrance of lavender, or would I create a tidal wave of splashing and fear as my lungs began to fill up? It would be nice, very nice in fact, to just slip under and have nothing further to worry about. Let the vultures make of my tiny estate what they will. Contrary to rumours (which I never denied) people thought I must be some kind of miser sitting on top of large amounts of money just waiting to be accessed. I suppose that’s why various folk have put up with my moods in the hope of gaining some kind of access. They never will because I have very little. As my partner instructed just before I pulled the plug. “Spend and enjoy... leave nothing... but if you can help someone on the way... invest in that future... for them.” Not very prosaic but the upshot was that the money we’d saved together was now already gone, distributed to several charities and to a young man who picked me up when I slipped and fell in the street. He tried to help me up but unfortunately that was the point when my hip finally gave up and the fall was the end of my independence. However, the young man stayed with me until the ambulance came and offered to accompany me to the hospital if I had no one else I was able to call on. Never before had I been so overcome with such selflessness in one so young. Well, he may not be aware of it but the sudden riches he received as a mystery gift from an old relative who wished to remain anonymous, was in fact me. I liked the anonymity of the act and the fact that I then had absolutely no say in what became of him or the money. Nonetheless, I guessed, he was a lad with his head screwed on and someone who would use his wealth wisely. Well, that’s what I hoped. So, perhaps I have done some good in the world but now, the water is cooling so, if I’m going to slip into oblivion, I’d better do it soon before any one comes and gets me out of this fluid coffin. Another look, and yes, my body has deteriorated speedily over the past few years. Illness, sedentariness and an almost non-stop excess to awful daytime TV have taken its toll. I hope I don’t make too much of a spectacle of myself as I try to go without frantically creating waves... so to speak. However, now I know what I’m about to do there is a calmness I wasn’t expecting. I feel so relaxed and my eyes are feeling heavy... the lavender living up to expectations there... so perhaps if I just close them for a few moments and then... # I woke up. A sudden realisation I’d fallen asleep and I was under water. Another second or two to comprehend I wasn’t breathing but when I did, I was filled with cold, cold water that spiked my brain and panicked me. I splashed and fought my way to the surface and gasped for air. I didn’t like this drowning malarkey one bit. I can forget about that it’s far too scary. However, breaking the surface and the coughing fit that eventually brought up most of the liquid I’d swallowed also had a sudden impact... I was more mobile than I’d been for years. That flailing around must have released some surge of adrenalin... or something. I held on to the edge of the bath for dear life. As my heart rate settled I began to take in my surroundings. I mean, the water was freezing, dark and had a strange scum like coating to it... not very pleasant at all. I mean, how long was I in the damn thing for? It couldn’t have been more than minutes, or surely I would have drowned. But, as I looked around there was definitely something wrong, although I wasn’t too sure what. I called out for Winnie my carer but received no reply. I called out a general request for HELP, but no one was listening, or if they were had decided to ignore that old twat in the bath. How was I going to get out and if I did, where were the towels? I lay there for a few minutes trying to work out what was what. Again I called for Winnie but nothing, not an echo, not a bird twitter, no radio blaring... absolute silence. This was totally unlike the home as there was nearly always some noise going on. Usually from Elsie who was hard of hearing so the TV was always on full blast. I attempted to pull myself up into a sitting position and surprisingly found that relatively easy... hadn’t been able to do that for a while. I felt quite light, I mean it took ages to get me into the damn thing in the first place but now, well, I felt lighter, if that’s possible. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘try prising yourself out of this waterlogged coffin and get free of the sludge that’s settled on the surface. YUK!’ Actually, I could move with a great deal of freedom. I pulled myself upright, turned and heaved myself into a kneeling position and was surprised once again that I had this manoeuvrability. Actually, I looked at my body and it was like I’d been given a thorough cleansing; skin bright, tight and amazingly young looking. I mean, was that purple lavender 'bath soak', as Winnie called it, a special new rejuvenating bubble bath? No wonder there’s all that scum on the surface, it must have had to dissolve years of old wrinkly skin to produce this new... Then I caught sight of myself in a cloudy full length mirror hanging on the back of the door. Bloody hell... is that me? I mean, for f*** sake...? No it can’t be but, the image moves as I do so... Oh shit this is stupid. “Winnie, Winnie, WINNIE!” Still no response from anyone... but I look like a teenager. I mean, I can vaguely remember how I was at sixteen and this, this, reflection is definitely like me. No, it is me, look it’s doing everything I’m doing. But this is complete madness. What the hell’s happened to everybody? “Winnie, Winnie.” # Okay, okay, okay I can’t stand around naked all day. Winnie took my clothes so they must be somewhere, well my dressing gown must be... Actually, I don’t suppose much of what I wore will fit now, not that I’d want to wear an old man’s clothes... blughhh... no let’s see if there’s anything else? I know that some of the medical supplies are kept in this room because I’ve seen the nurses and caregivers slip in here and emerge with all manner of stuff. All the cabinets are locked except... Mmmm... what have we here... towels? Ooops, no, adult incontinence wear. Yep, I’ve had to wear that on a couple of occasions when the old bladder flared up. I’m grinning to myself at the thought of wearing an adult disposable... it must be my teenage hormones. I mean, this is a serious situation and I’ve got the giggles. Settle down now... and think. I try to smash open a couple of other cabinets but I’m not strong enough. In fact, I don’t feel... oh Jeez... look in the mirror... I must be only about seven or eight. What the hell is going on? I was still holding one of the disposables but my reflection saw a skinny little lad who would be engulfed by such a thing but, I was still naked and needed something. I wondered if perhaps they had a smaller size, or at least something I could just temporarily wrap around my bits. I need to try and find someone; some sort of life. So far there’s nothing here - maybe outside. With some difficulty I climb up on a chair and look out the window. The road is empty except for all the dust everywhere. A stiff breeze seems to be carrying little clouds of the stuff from corner to corner and then on down the street... at least, I think it’s a breeze. Ermmm, perhaps not. # The smallest disposable I’ve been able to find hangs heavily on me. The tapes on the thing try to hold the material tight to my scrawny body but it’s not having much luck. I grab the only other thing that’s in the cabinet; a pair of pink plastic pants. The other colours look awful and far too voluminous for me to fit in. I’ll just have to make do at least they hold the damn nappy thingy tight against my hips. Although it feels like there’s an awful lot of padding I’m packing... I look ridiculous but... oh f*** I appear to be around five years old now. This isn’t a good look but I suppose it’s better than nothing, though barely. I make my way down the corridor, which, like everywhere else, is empty apart from piles and piles of dust. It looks like some has drifted and taken up a large part of the walls. My mind is racing to try and think but every time I try I get another thought which drives it out... now... what was I saying? My plastic pants have rustled all the way as I’ve waddled to the door. I can hardly reach the latch but by standing on a chair I’m able to open it and let myself out. I stare nervously down the street and see several whirling shadowy gusts of dusty wind and shiver although it isn’t particularly cold. I need to find some proper clothes as soon as possible but thankfully, this make-do nappy is at least holding. I wonder where everyone is. I mean, this place is like a scene from some desolate Sci-Fi movie. # I had been wondering what could possibly have happened between me getting in the bath and getting out. I mean, I wasn’t in it that long... was I? Everything has changed but yet still looks the same except, there’s no one around. I feel my nappy slipping so grab hold of the soft, glassy vinyl and my mind switches to worrying about the damn thing falling off and leaving me naked. It seems a strange thing to worry about but I’m holding on to that piece of fabric like my life depends on it. Two mini tornados seem to rush down the street and stop right in front of me. The swirling powder feels like it’s checking me out and, and... ermmm, are those eyes... and looking at me? I tremble and a shot of fear makes me leak into my nappy. Thank god I was wearing something but I can still feel those eyes boring into me... oh crap... I think I might be crapping in fear... yes... oh no. I’m standing with my legs apart and with a full nappy which the pink vinyl pants are barely holding in place. In my head I hear someone talking “Don’t worry little one... we’ll look after you.” I’m crying as I feel a dusty shape take hold of my right hand. It doesn’t feel solid but there’s no doubt my hand has been grasped. Then my left hand experiences the same sensation, and again I hear the words echo around my head. “Don’t worry little one... we’ll look after you.” I don’t know what to do. I feel rooted to the spot but yet I’m moving. “Don’t worry little one... we’ll look after you.” There’s a gentle pat on my padded bottom, as if I’m being encouraged. “Don’t cry sweetheart... these things happen.” I’m gently being led down the road by two strange breezy things. I have no idea where I’m going or what all this means but... # Winnie returns to the bath and her patient. Her two minute trip to the ‘little girl’s room’, as she so sweetly put it, had taken the best part of twenty minutes. Her stomach had been feeling strange all day and the effort of lifting that cantankerous old man into the bath had been too much. She needed to get to the toilet pretty damn quick. To her horror the old man had vanished. How the hell had he managed to get out and disappear, he could hardly walk without someone propping him up? She called his name and looked around but then a ghastly thought struck her. She moved the lavender foam bubbles and there, under just a few inches of water lay Mr Phillips. The old wrinkly body didn’t move as she plunged her hand in to drag him to the surface. She attempted to pull him out of the bath but had trouble getting hold of the slippery old sack of bones. “Oh Jesus,” she thought, “I’m in deep trouble now... I should never have left him alone.” She searched for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She tried CPR but that was useless. She remembered there was a defibrillator somewhere in the next room and although she’d been trained on it... the entire ‘half-hour course’ now escaped her. Panic was setting in and still there was no movement from the naked wrinkly form that now lay on the floor. She pressed the panic button to call for help but she already knew it was too late. She would be sacked for this. “Fuck the old twat.” She spat angrily. “Why did you have to die on my shift?” Help arrived and tried the defibrillator but got no response. “Clear” Baduff “Nothing” “Clear” Baduff A shake of the head. “You’d better call this in Winnie, he’s your responsibility.” She looked daggers at her ‘helpful’ colleague but knew she was right. “Fuck, fuck, FUCKKKK...” # As the full nappy and plastic pants slip from that now small glowing body the eerie agitated whirling mass transports a new infant up into the heavens. The swirling flakes and motes glitter and sparkle in the sunlight before the eddying fragments of life slowly dissipates into the clouds. ... ashes to ashes, dust to dust... ### ### ###

Are babies born with all the knowledge they will ever need and they just… forget? Man and Child Howard shuffled around the aisles of the superstore, no matter where he went he always ended up in the diaper section. He had no idea why as he was there to shop for food, yet still, with his little basket empty, and no matter which way he turned, he ended back in the same aisle. At 82, Howard occasionally got confused. He’d watched his partner of forty years forget him, and everything else, as Alzheimer’s took control of his body nine years ago, he hoped that wouldn’t happen to him. However, there was no doubt about it; things were getting more and more difficult. His bladder more or less gave up two years ago but going back into diapers hadn’t been that much of a trauma. Earlier in their relationship they’d both enjoyed a bit of ABDL fun well, now, he had no choice if he didn’t want a stream of piss marking his route. The young man behind the counter was asking him if he was OK. Of course he was OK he was just asking him for a loaf of bread. The seventeen year-old apprentice butcher tried to explain that this was the meat counter, the bakery was on the other side of the store. The young lad was patient with the old man and tried to direct him to the correct place and after a few minutes of gentle persuasion Howard realised his mistake, thanked the boy and ambled off. He ended back at the baby’s diaper section yet again. He stood there remembering the fun they’d had and slowly felt the bulk that now occupied his own trousers, not out of fun these days but necessity. He wished he could go back, he wished he could live his life in these more enlightened times but, he was old and… what was he here for? Oh yes, he needed to buy something for dinner, that was it, dinner. He arrived at the checkout with his meagre provisions. Four items; sausages, bread, tea and milk - it wasn’t much but he’d always loved a sausage sandwich. By the time the queue had lessened and it was his turn to pay he felt quite odd. He was breathless, even though he’d done no exercise, and his head felt fuzzy. Once he’d paid for it he noticed the bench were normally old folk sat and chatted was empty. His heart was racing so shuffled over to it and gratefully sat down. ‘Whoa’, he was happy for the rest before he set off on the half mile walk back to his apartment but a deep agony that left him rigid with pain… as if his heart was fit to explode, engulfed him. He couldn’t move and his bladder had given way. He couldn’t prevent his few purchases falling to the floor, he couldn’t see anything but a blur…he couldn’t move… he couldn’t… ***** Where am I? I can hardly see. All I can hear is muffled sounds. I can’t make out what anyone is saying but there seems to be hundreds, well maybe thousands of people all talking. I can see them in my head as easily as I can see anyone else but my eyes just won’t focus on anything except… moving shadows, shapes and the occasional flash of… lightness. What the hell is going on? Am I in hospital? The tightness and pain has gone, yet for some reason, I’m crying. Why am I crying? I need to speak to someone. I need some answers. I need to shut these thousands of people up. They’re driving me mad. Every one of them is talking, explaining, emphasising… often in a language I don’t understand but I know they are trying to tell me something important - to impart some knowledge. If I can stop crying and listen for a while perhaps I’ll find out what all these people are doing here in my head. I’m snug and warm but I have no idea why. I suppose the store has put me somewhere, perhaps I’m in hospital, maybe I’m dreaming. No, it’s not that. I feel warm and protected and I’ve stopped crying. There are other voices now outside my head though I can’t understand what they’re saying. The voices in my head and the people I can feel in my brain are offering advice, showing me untold wonders, telling me all about the secrets of the universe. I can hear… I’m beginning to comprehend. I know I’ve had some kind of shock to my system but why are they telling me all these things now. Is it some kind of revelation, which I’ll need to know when I’m feeling better? Suddenly, a bright light but I see nothing. I am crying again but only for a short while before I am sucking on something. Why am I doing that? Oh, it’s nice. Mmmm I could get used to this. As I concentrate on getting sustenance, the voices begin to fade. No don’t go. I want to know the secrets of the universe and the meaning of… Well, I can’t speak with this in my mouth so I’ll ask them when I’ve finished. However, I can see all those shadows… one by one… slowly dissolving from my minds-eye… but it seems more important at this moment to keep sucking. I don’t know why. Therefore, I just suck and suck and suck… and sleep takes me. ***** When I open my eyes there is no one and I can hear nothing. The images and voices in my head have all gone but outside, the shadows and strange noises continue. What was it those voices were telling me? The secret of… Oh damn… I can’t remember but I know it must have been important from the way everyone was talking to me. Well, I’m sure it will come back but for the moment. Suck, suck, suck, suck… I think this is the weirdest dream but at least my chest is no longer filled with the tension of stress. I’m warm, happy, relaxed and… what is that feeling… that other feeling? Suck, suck, suck… What was it I was worried about? Why am I even thinking about… I’ve no idea? I can’t remember now, all I know is that I like this new feeling. I can’t even remember the voices or anything that was told to me but I don’t care. This new sensation is far better. I only have to cry and I get food. Suck, suck, suck… ***** My eyesight is getting better. I can make out strange people who are fussing over me. I can see my legs. That’s funny…God they are so small. Ohhhh… this is one hell of a dream. Ooops, someone has just picked me up. Now they are laughing and there’s powder and a smell of… not sure what that is. It’s all a bit clearer now, don’t know what all that other stuff was about. Erm…er… was there some ‘other stuff? I’m naked but I appear to being dressed in. Bloody hell… I must be in a bad way, they’re putting me in a diaper. I must have lost use of all my bodily functions. I’ll have to ask what is going on but every time I try to speak, all I end up doing is crying. Oh, this isn’t good. My brain is… erm, I’m not sure what…. Mmmm suck, suck, suck… Where am I? Who am I? Why doesn’t anyone speak to me except in those silly tones? I no longer understand a word being said. I can’t say a word. I gurgle, I cry. That’s it. But I need to express myself this is a living hell. I need help. Suck, suck, suck… but it’s all so warm and nice… Suck, suck, suck… The shapes in front of my eyes are becoming clearer. I don’t know who they are… nurses, my carers? I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more. My brain is going numb. I know something happened but I can’t remember… I’m held and kissed and the feeling is fantastic. I sleep. I feed. I sleep and the memory fades. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good little girl? Who’s a pretty baby?” Suck, suck suck…