Wednesday, 11 July 2018

A PPM story where Peter is forced into baby clothes, spanked and humiliated in front of the guide troop.

Recently, on one of her visits, my aunt announced she thought I looked decidedly peaky and needed some fresh country air. She informed me that I would accompany her on her forthcoming weekend away with the ladies of the select club she had founded known as the S.P.A.N.K M.E club full name,
Sensible Pyjamas And Nighties Knaughty Males Enjoy.

Aunty came to supervise my packing; she selected plenty of pyjamas and folded them neatly into one case. I had no intention of wearing any of those items on this trip and had already packed a case of sensible clothes for myself. Aunty looked at what I was wearing and shook her head.

"No nephew of mine is going out dressed like that she decreed.

 Aunty stripped me down to my underwear and pulled a pale yellow t-shirt over my head then, at her insistence she dresses me in a pair of babyish yellow 

“You must join in with the spirit of things Peterkins,” she scolded. Grumbling, I did as I was told, despite my hatred of her calling me Peterkins,  I had no wish to upset aunty so early in the trip. The short-alls were the kind that has straps over the shoulders and fastens at the back. In addition, she dressed me in white ankle socks and a pair of red plastic play sandals.

A horn beeped outside. The club bus had arrived.

I dived outside and hurried on board, anxious that none of my nosy neighbours would see me attired as the child aunty seemed to think I was.

The five lady members of my aunt’s club greeted me.  Miss Gladys Gotobed, her of the buxom chest, was at the wheel,

“It’s young Master Peter. My goodness, it’s been a long time since I had that pleasure” she laughed. I was puzzled by her comment until I noticed the lettering on the back of my t-shirt reflected in the bus window. Even spelt backwards I could read the words SPANK ME emblazoned upon it.

Blushing furiously, I recalled that Miss Frobisher used to take a keen interest in putting me across her knee. In fact, all the ladies present had at one time, administered a spanking to me, usually at bedtime when I was wearing my pyjamas.

I noticed no one else was wearing the club t-shirt and huffily looked around for my seat. Aunty had followed me on board and was sitting up front behind the driver's seat and she motioned me to the seat on the opposite aisle.

She was indicating to the child's safety seat.
“I can’t sit there,” I protested,  “do you know how old I am?”  Miss Faversham-Fulbright peered over her pince-nez, eyed me up and down and said. “About six I would estimate.”

That woman had always taken great pleasure in humiliating me. She was over six foot tall and was always dressed in high-neck blouses and a grey two-piece. She stayed rather aloof, owing my Aunt said, to the fact she claimed to be related to the Faversham-Fulbright family who owned most of Hampshire.

“Don’t be such a baby, Aunty reprimanded. “This is a six-seater bus, five grown-ups and you.”

Furiously, I sat down. I was a grown-up for goodness sake, nineteen years old, I admit, due to a hormone deficiency I was only four foot eleven tall but I was still an adult for goodness sake, aunty was far too protective.

Sadly, to my disappointment, I found that the child’s seat fitted quite comfortably. Perhaps being so diminutive had something to do with it but I was still annoyed and I was even more so when Miss Harkness leaned across from behind and fastened the safety harness straps that held me firmly in place.

“I don’t need to be strapped in,” I said sharply and attempted to undo the catch. Miss Harkness grinned, “Childproof I am afraid Peter.”

She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we shall take good care of you on this trip you can be sure of that,” she said, before resuming her knitting.

Miss Harkness appeared to suffer from colour blindness. I still shudder at the pink and lemon coloured woolly hat and scarf she had knitted me for my Christmas gift.

Aunty had made me wear them when she took me to the park to feed the ducks. Fortunately, I had managed to hide them away at the bottom of a drawer, the hat and scarf. Not the ducks, which would be silly. Miss Harkness herself wore one of her own creations oblivious to the fact that her cardigan threatened peoples retinas.  

Miss Frobisher crunched the gear stick into first and we lurched off.

Immediately, I regretted not visiting the toilet before we had left. We had only gone about ten miles when aunty Hyacinth, my aunt's oldest and longest companion, passed me a fizzy drink. Aunty Hyacinth used to babysit me and I remember she had occasion to do so on my sixteenth birthday. I misbehaved and she put me to bed at six o'clock clutching Mr Bunny, my bedtime comforter and since then, every time we meet she has always reminded of that occasion, even though I cringe when aunty lets her know that at nineteen years of age, I still sleep with my toy rabbit.

“Hyacinth!” Aunty exclaimed as she saw the drink being passed to me.

"He will only spill it, you know how careless Peter is.”

For some reason, just as I put the drink to my lips, Miss Gotobed, chose that precise moment to brake quite violently. Why I have no idea, later she claimed to have been avoiding a hedgehog. Of course, I spilt lemonade on my t-shirt and short-alls and dribbled lemonade down my chin.

“What did I tell you? Aunty always has to clean up after Peterkins.”

Aunty took the drink from me. Before I knew it she had tied a towelling bib around my neck, the one with the bunny rabbit on. I hated that bib. I much prefer the one with the little lambs on.

“Stop it, Aunty. I don’t need a bib, you are treating me like a baby and I won’t have it!"

Aunty slapped the inside thigh of my bare leg. 
“Be quiet, you will do as you are told. Do you want a smacked botty?”

“N.... no Aunty, Peterkins is sowwy."

I was furious with myself for reverting to the baby talk I used to placate aunty but I had no choice. The last thing I wanted was to be put across my aunt's lap for a spanking in front of all the ladies.

Aunty gave me one of her sterns looks. “That’s better, here use this.”

She thrust my sippy cup into my hands and I was forced to complete my drink using my Peter Rabbit sippy cup and wearing a baby's bib.

After half an hour of crossing and uncrossing my legs and frequent requests to stop, Miss Frobisher finally pulled over at a deserted picnic spot

Miss Harkness undid my straps and I rushed toward a bush some distance away to gain some much longed for relief.

It was then that I discovered my shorts were fastened in such a way that I was unable to lower them unaided. I could not reach the fastenings at the back of my shorts to undo them.

Too late! I could not help myself; the wait had proven to be too long and I produced an involuntary torrential stream. My shorts, socks and sandals were all soaked. What would my aunt say?

Behind me, I could see aunty and the others forming a gossipy circle and unfolding chairs and opening flasks and packs of sandwiches. To the left was the parked bus.

With luck, I might just be able to reach it unseen, if I could retrieve my suitcase I would be able to sneak back into the bushes and change into my big boy clothes.

Furtively, I opened the luggage storage area and cast my eyes over the many suitcases. Where was mine?

A pair of hand grasped my shoulders. “Had a little accident have we young man?"

I was forcibly turned. Facing me was a woman in her mid-fifties wearing a senior Guide uniform. Behind her was a gaggle of twelve-year-old uniformed girls, staring at my soaked appearance.

Standing there, with my yellow shorts, white socks and sandals all soaked I made a fateful decision to play act my way out of my embarrassing situation.

“My auntie’s over there,” I mumbled in a pathetic, little boy voice.

The Guides leader took my hand led me over to where aunty was sitting. The girls of her troop followed curiously behind.

“Is he yours?” She enquired of aunty. “I am afraid the poor little fellow has had an accident. I found him rummaging through your luggage, must have been trying to change himself, wasn’t that sweet of the little boy?"

Aunty looked at the Guide leader, without batting an eyelid, she replied.

“Oh yes, he's mine. How very kind of you to return him to me.”

Aunty beckoned me into the centre of the circle and I stood, soaked and shamefaced in front of Aunty.

“Look at you, soaking wet, just like a toddler. Well, aunty knows just how to deal with naughty little boys like you.”

My voice trembled as I struggled to hold back my tears. “I'm so sorry aunty but I couldn’t undo the buttons on my short-alls to have a wee-wee.” I sobbed, my lower lip trembling.

“Well you could have asked for help to go tinkle but you didn’t and now you must suffer the consequences.”

Aunty began to undress me in front of everyone.

The Guide leader and her girls were only yards away erecting their camp for the night.

“I am afraid there wasn’t room for your suitcase on the bus Peterkins,” Aunty said, with a slight smirk, just the one I packed for you."

"It's not fair," I protested, stamping my foot with a wet squelch.

“Now then, I won't tolerate your tantrums Peterkins, only naughty little boys wet themselves at your age and as always, you will be treated accordingly."

I stood in the middle of my aunt's club members and sobbed uncontrollably as aunty proceeded to strip me naked.

Encircled by her friends, I stood obediently as aunty grabbed a handful of wet wipes and lifted me onto her lap. She proceeded to clean my little boy areas in full view of everyone as I continued to sob.

She opened the suitcase and from behind the lid, selected some items.

“Luckily I anticipated you having accidents Peterkins, come along, get these on.”

She held up a pair of Dry-nites pyjama pants, boys age 13-15.

I struggled to hold back more tears as aunty, in front of several pairs of eager female eyes, put me into what was basically a nappy, and settled them around my groin.

“Yes, well you obviously need them my little pee-pee pants,” she said, patting the padded front and smiling at my discomfort.

She stroked my cheek as she spoke to me softly and I felt that familiar feeling of obedience and submissiveness as she caressed me.

“Now then, let's stop pretending you are a big boy Peterkins," she cooed, delving into the suitcase, "come along, let aunty get her little boy ready for beddy-byes and into his jimmy-jams.”

In her hands, she held a pair of my most extremely infantile winceyette pyjamas.

Aunty ignored my protestations and slipped the pyjama top around my shoulders.

The soft material encased me and I was engulfed in the warm embrace of yellow, bunny rabbit motif pyjamas. "There's a good boy," she said softly as she buttoned up the jacket and eased my legs into the pyjama bottoms. She pulled them slowly up, settling them over my Dry-nites and tucking the hem of the jacket into the bottoms.

Surrounded by the members of the SPANK ME  club I had been humiliating dressed in a nappy and my babyish, little boy pyjamas.

Aunty turned me around, patted my nappied and pyjama clad bottom and ushered me toward Miss Gotobed. “Now off you go for a cuddle while I prepare your sleepy time milk.”

I felt Miss Gladys Spankalot's strong arms wedge themselves beneath my armpits and lifted me onto her lap.

“There-there Peterkins,” she cooed. Pressing my face into her bosom.

She clasped me to her chest that I found it difficult to breathe, she rocked me gently in her arms, caressing my pyjama clad back as she did so.

"Peterkins you are so vulnerable, I think it is best that you remain your aunts little boy forever and not try to be a big boy, don't you agree?"

My face was buried in her blouse and my protests only came out as a muffled, mmmph!

Aunty handed her my milk. I had expected it to be in my sippy cup, but no, aunty had prepared a baby bottle.

I would have complained but Miss Gotobed cradled me as easily as if I was an infant in her arms and proceeded to ease the teat of the baby bottle between my lips, with my head encased in her firm grip, I had no choice but to drink auntie’s concoction.

I knew from experience that whenever aunty prepared her special sleepy time milk for me that within ten minutes, I would be very sleepy indeed.

I comforted myself with the thought that at least I was hidden from the prying eyes of the gaggle of girl guides. I could hear their laughter only a matter of yards away.

“We’ve come to see how the little boy is?”They enquired, "we were worried about the poor little boy.

I struggled to keep open my already drowsy eyes. Several of the Guides were leaning across Miss Gotobed's shoulder and staring down at me as I lay cradled in her arms wearing my nappy and baby pyjamas. Miss Gotobed continued feeding me. “That’s very sweet of you girls, as you can see he is much happier now he is all nappied and ready for beddy-byes.

After his milky, he will drift off to sleepy-byes.”

Miss Gotobed removed the bottle. “Say thank you to the girls for their thoughtfulness Peter.”

I turned crimson red lying cradled in Miss Gotobed's arms wearing my bunny rabbit pyjamas but drowsily managed to mutter words of thanks.

“Isn’t it a bit early for him to be in pyjamas ready for bed?” One of the girls ventured to ask.”

Aunty hove into view. “Because Peterkins has been such a very naughty little boy he must be punished with an early bedtime, now run along girls.”

Everyone was packed up ready to leave and I was aware of Miss Gotobed hoisting me onto her hip, toddler-like, I automatically wrapped my arms around her neck as she carried me to the bus. She strapped me back into my seat as aunty fumbled in her bag.

“Here we are Peterkins this will help you go sleepy-byes, there is quite a drive left and we have had enough of your babyish antics for one day and into my mouth she thrust a babies dummy, sometimes when I was especially naughty, aunty would make me use my dummy but this was the first time in many years she had made me use my dummy in public view.

The sound of tyres on gravel stirred me from my induced sleep and I was aware of Miss Harkness lurking nearby and unfastening my child's seat straps.

I drowsily clasped her outstretched hand as she helped me out of the bus. As I looked downward gingerly trying to control my ambience I was horrified to discover, whilst I was asleep, my feet had been adorned with a pair of I had been Miss Harkness' creations, yellow knitted bunny slippers.

“Dat is dese? Et em off me...” I realised that my dummy had been tied in place and that my words of protest were meaningless babble. so, while being led by the hand, wearing my baby winceyette bunny pyjamas and bunny slippers we entered the hotel.

Aunty was standing talking to the proprietor; a plump woman in her forties with a ruddy complexion derived no doubt from the local weather, which even in summer is never the warmest.

Miss Harkness positioned me beside aunty and the hotel owner.

“No need to feel embarrassed, Mrs McFlannel knows all about our requirements for you. That’s why we are staying here. You will get plenty of rest and fresh air during our visit.”

I was about to protest, what requirements?  I decided that, dummy in mouth and dressed as I was, discretion was probably the best course of action.

Mrs McFlannel bent down toward me. “Hello there little one, your aunt has told me all about you, don’t worry about not wanting to talk if you don’t want to, Bonnie and I quite understand.”

Bonnie? I wondered who Bonnie? As if reading my mind Mrs McFlannel enlightened me. “Bonnie is my fourteen-year-old daughter, she’s looking forward to your stay with us.”

Mrs McFlannel called out. “Bonnie the guests have arrived, come and help with their bags.”

Bonnie appeared, fresh-faced with shoulder length dark curly hair. She was tall for a fourteen-year-old, well, taller than me; she wore the uniform of a chambermaid, a white blouse and a black skirt with a white frilled apron tied around her waist.

“This is Peterkins, the one we have to take extra special care of.”
I disliked the sound of that. Bonnie looked at me, smiled and said, “I love your slippers and pyjamas Peterkins, you look so sweet, come with me and I will show you to your room. I helped Mum get it ready for you.”

I traipsed sleepily upstairs as aunty held my hand, Bonnie went ahead carrying the case aunty had packed for me. We went into a normal looking bedroom with a double and a single bed. Oh no, not sharing with aunty I thought.

“Your room is through here Peter.” Ah, a bit of privacy, I could cope with that I thought.

Bonnie opened an adjoining door. It was a nursery.

The main feature was canopied cot with matching baby blue rails and layers of soft, yellow flannelette bedding. From atop the canopy, a revolving mobile stretched out above the deep pillows.

“I will just go and fetch the rest of your luggage,” Bonnie said, leaving aunty and me alone in the nursery. 

Aunty could see I was annoyed and untied my dummy that swung on its ribbon pinned to my pyjama jacket.

“What the hell is going on?” I exploded. “Why have I got a babies cot to sleep in?" I stomped my slippered feet childishly and demandingly insisted, "I want a big boys bed."

Aunty didn’t reply; instead, she grasped my shoulders to face the mirrored wardrobe door.

“May I remind you that you are wearing little boy bunny rabbit winceyette pyjamas, bunny slippers, a nappy and have a dummy pinned to your pyjama top? You have been dressed in your babyish pyjamas in front of a group of girl guides and you have just been led into your nursery by a fourteen-year-old girl.” 

“Well, it just happened that way, I….”

My voice trailed away as I struggled to explain myself.

Aunty continued. “Yes, exactly Master Peterkins. It just happened because you are a naughty little boy who has grown too big for his tiny little booties.”

I wiggled my bunny-slippered feet uncomfortably. A lecture from aunty was coming.

“I think it is time we reverted back to the days when you behaved properly and were respectful to aunty. On this trip, you will do as you are told, wear what you are told and generally behave like the polite little boy I know you can be." She turned me away from the mirror and knelt down to face me.

"Mrs McFlannel and Bonnie don’t expect to hear anything but the odd babyish gurgle from you. So unless you want to complain to Bonnie about your treatment and tell her how old you really are, I suggest you put your dummy in immediately before she returns. Do I make myself clear?”

I stared down at my slippers. “Yes, aunty,” I mumbled, deeply ashamed of how easily I capitulated to a telling off from my aunty.

“Good, and don’t think you have avoided punishment for your foul-mouthed outburst. I will punish you in due course.”

Bonnie returned carrying auntie’s suitcase. Realising I had little option other than to go along with aunty I quickly popped the dummy into my mouth.

“Bonnie my dear, Peterkins requires a little nap, whilst I get him ready do you think you could warm his sleepy-time milk up for me? Perhaps you would like to feed him with it too?”

“Yes madam, I would love to, he is so cute.” She turned to me and said, “Bonnie will be back in a few minutes with your bottle sweetums.”

Aunty waited until she had gone.  “ Such a well-mannered girl, I predict she will be a great help to us during our stay. Now come along, I have the perfect pyjamas for your nap.”

Aunty removed my bunny pyjamas and took off my Dry-nites pyjama pants. “Can I trust you not to do wee-wees at nap time? She asked mockingly as she approached me holding a pair of pale blue, teddy-bear motif footed pyjamas.

“No, not those I will look like a four-year-old.” I protested. Aunty ignored my pleadings and as she buttoned up the pyjamas jacket commented, "there now, all ready for your nap-nap, just a couple of refinements I think.”

Aunty placed my baby’s dummy on a ribbon around my neck and popped it into my mouth. “Take it out at your peril,” she warned. 

“Ah, here comes Bonnie with your milky-milky.”

Bonnie had knocked and entered immediately. She had put on a pristine clean white pinafore apron; triumphantly she held my baby bottle.

“Oh Peterkins what sweet pyjamas you’re wearing.”

I stood there feeling very embarrassed sucking loudly on my dummy and cast my eyes to the floor.

Aunty smiled at my obvious discomfort and addressing me with baby talk said. “Be a good babykins for aunty and dwink up all your lovely milky-wilky for Bonnie while I go and change,”

Turning to Bonnie she instructed, “make sure he drinks it all up then we can put him down for his nap. I am glad to see you have followed my instructions and hung thick curtains, Peterkins needs complete darkness for his sleepy-times.”

As soon as we were alone Bonnie’s attitude suddenly changed. “Right babykins,” she said, posing with one arm on her hip, “I want no nonsense from you or I will have to put you over my knee for a smacked botty. Come along it's milk time, let me put your bib on then we can get you into your cot for sleepy-byes.”                 

Aunty had changed into her favourite tweed suit. “Has he drank all his sleepy-time milk up?” she asked, “I want Peterkins settled before the ladies and I go for our walk.

Bonnie nodded, “yes madam he’s been a very good babykins.”

Little did Aunty know that I had little choice?  Bonnie had insisted on tipping up the baby bottle until my bib was wet with the dribbles.

She showed Aunty the empty bottle.

“My Peterkins you must have been thirsty, I will have to make up a bigger formula for you next time.”

I glared at Aunty and was just about to give her a piece of my mind when she put her finger to her mouth.

Luckily, Bonnie hadn’t noticed my attempt to speak; she was busily folding back the flannelette cot sheets.

Aunty led me over to the cot and settled me down.

After putting on the night-light Bonnie went to draw the heavy curtain. I whispered to Aunty, “how long will you be? This stupid girl is a menace, I don’t want to be left alone with her.”

Aunty smiled. Instead of reassuring me she popped the dummy back into my mouth.

“Bonnie, do you think you could put Peter’s mittens on for me? The one’s Miss Harkness knitted for him. He has a tendency to be a naughty boy when he is in beddy-byes, oh, and can you tie his dum-dum in for him? He gets terribly cranky if he wakes up without it.”

“Of course madam.”

My eyes popped at auntie’s comments. I watched as she silently laughed, blew me a kiss and left leaving me alone with Bonnie.

Bonnie fussed with the yellow flannelette sheets, tucking me tightly in but leaving my arms exposed. Miss Harness’s mittens had taken me by surprise but Bonnie seemed to relish putting them on me.

“Let’s get your handy-pandies into your mittens now Peterkins. I know what little boys get up to. There now,” she said as she fastened them. “Peterkins is all cosy-wosy. Now straight to sleep, I don’t want to hear a sound out of you or there will be trouble.”

Bonnie tied my dummy in place, turned out the light and left me stranded in the darkness.

Thursday, 28 June 2018

Punished in Footed Pyjamas

Mrs Jacobson is a great believer in using footed pyjamas as a punishment. She particular likes the snowman winceyette footed pyjamas she gave me one Christmas as they have a drop-seat to enable her to administer spankings as she sees fit.

Corner time to reflect on my bad behaviour.

The aftermath of going across Mrs Jacobson's lap for my spanking.

Aunty bought me the Eeyore footed pyjamas for me to wear when we take tea in the garden during the later summer months. She doesn't want me to catch a chill so insists I wear my footsies as I sit on the rug at Mrs Jacobson and my aunt's feet.

Due to an unexpected snowstorm, we were once forced to spend the night with Miss Jacobson's niece Melissa. Aunty and Miss Jacobson still wanted me ready for bed early so Melissa lent me these floral footed winceyette pyjamas for the night. It was decided I could stay up until eight o'clock as Melissa thought I looked "cute" wearing her pyjamas and when we left she gave me them as a gift. Aunty likes me to wear them when she has guests as she says I am more obedient  when wearing floral pyjamas.

Sunday, 24 June 2018

A Pyjama Punishment Monthly letter.

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

My son is 17 - a young 17 - small and very slight. He has been out of school for the past year which is when his behaviour began to deteriorate, he went to visit my sister in the Lake District where stories filtered back of his unruly and undesirable behaviour, reflecting badly on me and the way I had brought him up.

My sister sent him commanded him home to me and phoned with a full report of his poor discipline and manners. His attitude upon his return home was equally poor, becoming quite cock-sure and he began to give me back-chat during my attempts to question him about his behaviour.

This I will not tolerate hence my decision to return him to a position where he was under my control in an attempt to remind him of his status in our home.

I like him to be prepared for bed before seven o’clock begin so I can enjoy the evening in peace without his nonsense. Nine times out of ten this usually means him being physically prepared for bed by me, a time-saving device to minimise time and fuss. I have a warning system and two warnings not responded to mean I will take over his bedtime preparations meaning he is bathed and put into his pyjamas ready for bedtime, he becomes  fractious when mummy undresses him but a drop of lavender and Camomile baby lotion in his bath water
works a treat in order to calm and settle him down.

He is put to bed at eight o’clock wearing his babyish winceyette pyjamas. Steven greatly resents being put back into pyjamas as he was used to wearing boxer shorts to bed but I prefer to see him properly attired for sleepy-time as he was as a child. My sister has kindly made him blue pyjamas with bunny rabbits on which are very babyish and sweet, which add to his shame. 

At weekends I keep him dressed in pyjamas enabling me the possibility of putting him to bed at any time of day when his behaviour is deemed unacceptable. It is a great way to remind him of his new infantile status and also put an immediate stop to him storming out of the house.

He has a soft plush Teddy Bear which he has had since a child and I am endeavouring to bring it into an active role in his bedtime regime, along with perhaps a dummy and a blanket as he always used to carry those around as a toddler. I was wondering if you could make further suggestions as to how I could enhance his new found infantile status?


Mrs P

Sissy Babykins Frilly Pink Pyjamas and slippers

Sissy Babykins had had a busy day so nanny told him he had to get ready for beddy-byes the moment they returned from feeding the ducks in the park. Sissy protested that he wasn't tired in the least and that 4 pm was far too early for Babykins to be ready for bed. Nanny wasn't in the mood to put up with any nonsense and tugged down Sissy's short-all before putting Babykins across her lap for a sound over the knee spanking.

"Is Babykins going to be a good little sissy for his nanny?" She demanded. Sissy Babykins sobbed his little heart out as he nodded that yes, he would a good little Sissy and do as nanny told. "There-there little one, let's get you bathed and into your jim-jams shall we?" Nanny led the still sobbing Babykins by the hand and gave him a lovely soapy bubble bath.

By the time Nanny had finished he was giggling and laughing again as Nanny played the tickling game as she dried him with a big pink fluffy towel. "Come along now, that's quite enough laughter. I want you in pyjamas by the time mummy gets home. See the pretty jim-jams nanny has chosen for you to wear? They are lovely and cosy and frilly and pink, just perfect for a Sissy Babykins, aren’t they sweet? Sissy Babykins didn’t say anything but he was a good little Sissy as Nanny stepped him into his pyjama bottoms and buttoned up his pyjama jacket.

"Here are your lovely new slippers, just right for keeping your tootsie-wootsies lovely and warm too. Put them on Sissy, there’s a good Babykins." Once Babykins was pyjamaed and slippered Nanny sat him upon her knee and give him a big cuddle for being a good Babykins. A lovely baby bottle of warm milk followed and soon Babykins eyes began to droop as Nanny gently rocked him to sleepy-byes.

The key turned in the door. Mummy was home. "Oh mother, he looks adorable in those pyjamas and slippers, and fast asleep too. No don't wake him; it's almost 6 pm, why don't you put him straight to bye-byes. It's funny; the day we got married I told him he would be spending a lot of his time in bed. Of course, he thought I meant the two us together, silly Sissy Babykins.

Friday, 22 June 2018

Phillip Jones sent an account of his childhood strict early bedtime upbringing

My mother was determined to keep me as, ‘her little boy’ for as long as possible.
I had to call her mummy at all times and was not allowed to progress from wearing my schoolboy short trousers.

Can you imagine the embarrassment of a boy of fourteen years of age wearing grey flannel short trousers along with a  white school shirt, tie and grey knee-socks? Any protest on my part would result in a trip across mothers lap for a bare bottom spanking.

What was even worse than attending school dressed as a little boy was having to wear this uniform out of school too. I was often taken visiting in my schoolboy uniform to my aunt's house, I always felt very foolish as my cousin Daisy, who was a year younger than me would tease me about my appearance.

My bedtime throughout this period was 6.30 pm which remained the same up until 
I left home, again if I made a fuss I would be disciplined and threatened with an even earlier bedtime of 6 o’clock which meant I would have had to be in my pyjamas by 5 o’clock as mummy always insisted an hours ‘quiet time” in pyjamas before bedtime.

My cousin, aunts, neighbours and obviously my sister Wendy have all seen me being put across mummy's lap before being dispatched to bed. My cousin even today teases me about how they used to enjoy watching as mummy undressed me and put me into my little boy striped pyjamas ready for bed, sometimes I was so upset I wet the bed and then mummy would think nothing of pinning me into a nighttime nappy and plastic pants with a dummy and a bedtime bottle of milk then put me into one of my sisters hand-me-down  pink winceyette nightdresses to teach me that if I behaved like a baby I would be treated as one.

I was 16 before I tried to rebel Mummy. I remember mummy said, “Come along Phillip, it’s five thirty, time to get you bathed and into your jimmy-jams ready for bed.”

I complained, saying that it was so unfair that my sister was allowed normal teenage clothes, and that she was allowed to go out at the weekends. and had no bedtime, indeed she could go to bed any time she liked.

Mummy told me that my behaviour and attitude was very childish, that is why she still treat me like a silly, naughty little boy and that I was the type of male who would always need strict guidance from a female.

So her dominance continued. Mother even handpicked a girlfriend for me, it was someone I knew from Sunday school, but she got frustrated as we could not go out for very long because of my early bedtimes but she became good friends with mother who began paying her to act as my babysitter, she even began to spank me and get me ready for bed even earlier than mother did, sometimes she would put me into pyjamas by 4 pm and have me tucked up into bed before 5 pm, many times I would cry myself to sleep.

It was not until I left home that I met other women. As you can imagine, as an inexperienced shy 22 year old, I had some disastrous relationships, but then I met a girl who later became my wife. 

She was different from the rest and I knew from the beginning she was a woman who enjoyed being with me despite my timid nature.

One night in bed, she began to ask me about my childhood and then it all came out and I explained my strict upbringing. My wife said that now she knew the truth she understood things that had puzzled her about my personality and asked if I was perhaps secretly wanting to revisit the rigid discipline of my youth.

She became good friends with my mother and discovered all the details about my upbringing and how I was kept under strict early bedtime and pyjama discipline.

Her first act was to reintroduce my pyjama times and early bedtimes and began treating me like a little boy again, I even have some grey shorts. My mother-in-law is now my babysitter and I now have three women who tuck me in and kiss me goodnight.

Sunday, 17 June 2018

My weekend of pyjama punishment at my aunts.

Having been under the weather again early last week I arrived at my aunt's on Wednesday evening. Almost immediately I felt better than I had and decided to take a stroll into the village and visit the local hostelry for a refreshing beer. 

Unfortunately, Mrs Jacobson was having none of it and suggested to my aunt that instead of alcohol, I needed a weekend of strict pyjama discipline and early bedtimes. 

My aunt readily agreed and after a bath, I was woman-handled into a pair of striped winceyette pyjamas, this, however, was just the beginning and despite my frequent objections I spent the weekend being changed into various pyjamas both male and female. 

Each time I was the recipient of a fresh pyjamaring I was given a time-out to be served with hands on my head before being tucked into bed.

Corner time on Wednesday afternoon in my striped winceyette pyjamas that I had packed followed by an early bedtime instead of a visit to the village pub 

My aunts book club members admired my
blue Paisley winceyette pyjamas as I endured a very public corner time on Thursday  morning 

Red oversized Paisley winceyette pyjamas for supper at Mrs Jacobson's on Thursday before bedtime at 4.30

Mauve flannelette footed pyjamas. Miss Jacobson thought it was chilly on Friday afternoon so I was dressed in footed pyjamas for afternoon tea in the garden

Aunty made me wear one of her pink frilly winceyette nighties for my afternoon nap on Saturday

In my nightie and dressing gown after my nap

Ready for bed at 5 pm on Saturday afternoon wearing pink floral flannelette pyjamas. Miss Jacobson says I suit frilly cuffs and collars and she will try and find more pyjama like these for me.

Monday, 11 June 2018

Kept in Pyjamas again

When Phillip's mother educated his young wife into the efficacy of pyjama and early bedtime discipline she could never dream that her daughter-in-law would embrace her philosophy so enthusiastically. Soon Phillip was inducted into a strict regime that entailed him wearing floral pyjamas in the marital home at all times and learning how to be courteous and respectful to all females. Once his daily chores were fulfilled to the satisfaction of his wife Phillip was dispatched to bed early with a well spanked bottom.