Monday, 27 August 2018

Some examples of what I would describe as Sissy Pyjamas

A comment was left that suggested they considered Baby-Doll pyjamas as sissy nightwear. I know plenty of people would agree but for me they are not. Sissy pyjamas as far as I am concerned, should make the pyjamaed male appear ridiculous and infantile.After being forcibly dressed in such a demeaning way, it is entirely suitable that assembled females should seek to humiliate and degrade the male until he is firmly under their control.

Tuesday, 14 August 2018

An Appointment with Matron

Although Philip was wearing his warmest winceyette pyjamas, it wasn’t the draught in the corridor that made him shiver, no. It was the stomach-churning anticipation of what was to come.
As a senior boy, he knew Matron would not be in a forgiving mood about their flagrant breach of the rules.

It had been humiliating to be made to change into pyjamas and slippers as if they were first-year squirts, everyone in the senior dorm had witnessed their embarrassment as Matron stood and watched them remove their uniforms and don their pyjamas.

How long was it since she had marched them both down to stand and wait outside her room, twenty, thirty minutes? He didn't know. It felt like a very long time until she had opened her door and beckoned Godfrey inside. 

From behind the door he could hear the rhythmic thwack of Mrs Knight’s cane. He counted to four when he first heard Godfrey react, “owww!”

The next strike of her cane brought forth more of a canine yelp. The sixth stroke was when Godfrey finally gave up the pretence of being brave and emitted a full blown sob.

Matron's door opened. Unable to look directly at his friend, Godfrey slithered quickly out, but not so quick that Philip failed to notice his friend's tear-stained face. 

Philip just had time to witness the pyjama clad figure scurry down the corridor clutching frantically at his chastised bottom before Mrs Knight appeared.

“Come in please Master Philip.” It always meant unpleasantness when Matron used that particular prefix, emphasising a junior status.

“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am that you, a senior boy and a prefect to boot, should have behaved in such a manner. Luckily PJ had the good sense to come and tell me what you two were up to.” 

Suddenly it was all clear. Tradman! The swine, he thought, just you wait. 

Matron continued her lecture. “I hold you entirely responsible for this escapade Philip, there is no way Godfrey would have behaved in this fashion without your influence. Therefore your punishment must be harsher.”

She was aware of his nervousness and paused for a moment to study his reaction to her admonishment before sitting herself down on her chair. She patted her lap, “over you go please Philip.”

At first, he didn’t comprehend her meaning until she spoke again, this time more sharply.
“Philip! Over my lap, now boy.” Nervously, he took two steps forward and found himself lying across her lap.

“I thought you were a sensible mature boy Philip, someone who could be trusted and yet I discover you were involved in a most immature escapade. Therefore I have decided to punish you as I would a first-year, with an over the knee slipper spanking, a case of the punishment fitting the crime as it were.”

“… matron please..” he stuttered as he lay helpless across her ample lap. 
Mrs Knight picked up her fur-trimmed spanking slipper, circling his pyjamaed bottom with her palm searching for the optimum position to begin his spanking. Philip tensed his buttocks, wishing fervently that he was being caned instead of this demeaning spanking.

Her slipper made contact with his bottom only four times before he began flailing his legs in reaction to the hurt. However, years of slipper spanking experience gave Mrs Knight the advantage and she altered the position of her left arm to maintain her firm grip before repeating the dose. By now, he was yelling, weeping and promising to be a good boy in future. She stopped. Philip felt a sense of relief even though he was breathing heavily, his heart racing as he lay draped forlornly across her lap. 

Then, much to his horror, he felt matron pulling at the cord of his pyjamas then tugging them down to reveal his bare bottom.

“Not very red at all Philip." I must be losing my touch. Let’s see if I can make your bottom blush as much as your face shall I?”

For the next five minutes, Mrs Knight spanked, paused to lecture, spanked and paused again. His slippers flew off and the legs of his pyjama bottoms flapped wildly as his pleas for her to stop reached full volume. Her hand gently circled his very red, very sore bare bottom. “There, that’s much better isn’t it?” she asked without expecting a reply.

“Right, up you get Philip.” As he rolled off her lap and stood, his pyjama bottoms puddled at his feet. Quickly, he raised them to his waist, his fingers fumbled with the tie-cord. 

“Allow me.” Matron maintained eye contact with him as she grasped the pyjama cord. Her arms encircled his body and as she drew them back together, she made sure to enclose the hem of his pyjama jacket inside the pyjama bottoms before she fastened the cord into a double bow.

“Much more little boy like,” she commented before reminding him to repossess his slippers.

Unlike Godfrey, who had been allowed to scamper tearfully away on his own, matron escorted Philip all the way back to his dormitory. Godfrey had already washed his tear-stained face and dressed, ready for the refectory and only his somewhat awkward gait gave a hint of what had befallen him. 

PJ Tradman was loitering there too, although Philip was trying to conceal his tear-streaked face he could have sworn he saw him smirk as he passed. Philip picked up his towel and made to head for the cloakroom and the sanctuary of the showers.

Mrs Knight halted him by grabbing at the collar of his pyjama jacket. “No you don’t Philip, you will attend the refectory dressed in your pyjamas and slippers just as first-year pupils do who have been slipper-spanked, furthermore you will continue to do so for the next two days.” 

He could hardly comprehend her words, the shame of appearing in the refectory in his pyjamas and slippers like a naughty first year was going to be disastrous for his image with the sixth form girls.

Matron continued, “since you have behaved like a little boy I have no option other than to treat you like one. Therefore your official bedtime for the next three days will also mimic that of the first years.”

Philip couldn’t believe it, an eight o’clock bedtime for three nights, oh the shame!

Monday, 6 August 2018

Mummy Knows Best. A mother imposes a strict regime on her eighteen year old son

‘Come to mummy pet lamb. Why? Because it’s six o’clock, time for you to get ready for beddy-byes. Yes I know your usual bedtime on Saturday is seven o’clock but your sister wants you safely tucked up in your cot so she can enjoy the rest of her party. It’s time to get you into your bedtime nap-naps. No, you can’t go to the nursery to get undressed. Don’t be silly. No one is looking at you. You looked very sweet in your lovely party outfit when you were dancing with the girls. Of course, you enjoyed it. Now, turn around so mummy can undo the buttons on your blouse, yes ok we can call it a shirt if you want. That’s it, yes it would be impossible for you to undo the buttons all by yourself, that’s why mummy chose it for you, no, the puffed sleeves aren't sissy, I bet real sailors wear them like this too, no silly-billy yellow is not just a girls colour.

Hands off! Mummy will undo the eyelets on your velvet shorts, goodness knows how messy your hands are you need a good bath. Well, I think yellow and pink do go together, and all the girls agreed, didn’t they all take your picture and film you dancing? Yes, they did. Tut, you’ve even managed to get your white pelerine socks grubby as well, what a naughty boy you are. Feet up, these yellow Mary Jane shoes matched your blouse…. I mean shirt, perfectly. I think you will be wearing your new party outfit to church on Sunday.

Now that’s enough! I won’t be spoken to like that by a little boy.  I will take you to church dressed how I like, it’s nothing to do with you. Do you want to go over my lap?

I thought not, oh dear, tears before bedtime again, you really are a cry-baby aren’t you. Shush, dry your eyes and hug teddy for a moment, there’s a clever boy. See, you’re totally naked and no one is looking, none of the girls would be interested in such a little boy, no girl will ever be interested in my babykins I can assure you. Up we go.

Come along, into the bathtub, yes you do need to take a bath silly. Mummy wants you to be nice and clean for beddy-byes. The water is not too cold, don’t be such a baby. There all the suds are rinsed off you can open your eyes now. Hold still while mummy washes your tiny tinkle, ah-ah, you know that’s not allowed. Do you want mummy to lock it up again? Then behave. Out you come.

Now mummy wants you to lie down on your favourite pink baby blanket. Well, the girls may not notice you. Now, lift up. Yes you do need to wear nappies for bedtime, do I need to remind you about this morning? Well then.

Here’s the tub of cream, mummy is going to make sure you don’t get a nappy rash by rubbing the cream all over you. There, that feels nice doesn’t it, now for the talcy powder. Whee… down it goes just like a snowstorm. Hmmm... don't you smell nice?

Nappy time! It’s nappy time darling. Now then, you know what happens when you pull a face like that, a grumpy face is a naughty face in this house, if the girls want to come and watch mummy nappy her babykins they’re more than welcome. Anyone of them could be babysitting you soon babykins so they need to learn. 

Now, upsy baby. That’s it, your nappy liner is in place now mummy can now bring the corners together and pin the nappy together. These three, soft fluffy flannelette nappies will feel lovely and snugly once mummy has pinned you into them. Yes, you do need three towelling nappies and the pink plastic nursery pants, see the little teddy-bears printed on the pants, they look just like your teddy bear don’t they?

Now keep still, you still need your plastic pants on. You know why they stop the wee-wee from leaking, you’re such a wetter aren’t you? Yes, you are. On they go, one leggy-weggy and now the other leggy-weggy. There now, babykins is all nappied. Tickle-tickle babykins ha-ha. Oops, I better stop, we don’t want those clean nap-naps soiled straightway do we? No, we don’t.

Now babykins, tell mummy what pair of jimmy-jams you want to wear. What’s that? The blue ones with the choo-choo trains on? You know full well those are your big boy pyjamas. You aren’t allowed big boy pj’s at the moment, are you? 

Since you can’t be sensible mummy will choose for you. Yes, I know you are eighteen- years- old but if you insist on behaving like a baby mummy will have to continue to treat you like one.
Now let me see, yes, I think the yellow flannel pyjamas with the little lambs on your sister bought you will be just right. Pardon? Because at fourteen your sister is far more mature than it seems you will ever be. That’s why she is permitted to choose your pyjamas, now let me button you into your pyjama jacket. I don’t care if it is uncomfortable, the top button remains fastened and I will tie the neck ribbon into a gorgeous big pink bow to show off the pretty Peter-Pan collar.

There now, don’t you look sweet my pet lamb? Well, I don’t care if you don’t like the frilly lacy cuffs on your jim-jams, mummy likes them and that is all that matters. Slippers on, yes I know they are babyish but you need to keep your tootsies cosy too don’t you. Hold tightly onto teddy and give me your other hand. Yes, you are going to bed, very soon but your sister and her friends will want to see her big brother in his nappies and jammies first won’t she? Let’s take you outside, shall we?

“Wait a moment while I tuck your cute jammie top into your plastic baby pants. Yes, I know that makes you look silly and babyish but mummy wants the girls to get a good view of you in your nappies and plastic pants. Come with mummy, good boy, don’t your plastic pants make a lovely rustling sound when you toddle Babykins? It’s because you have three fluffy white nap-naps on, the bulky material makes you walk like that, goodness you do ask a lot of questions don’t you. I know, mummy will pop your dummy in and you can be quiet for a little while, you love your dummy don’t you, mummy will pin your dummy onto your jammies so you won’t lose it, there we go, now, open wide Babykins.

That’s better, some peace and quiet. Look, here comes your sister Melissa and her friend Harriet to see you. What’s that behind Melissa’s back, can you guess? It’s teddy! 
Isn’t that kind of your sister to bring her older brother his cuddle bear to take to beddy-byes? 

Naughty baby! Don’t ever throw teddy away like that again. You know what happens when you have baby tantrums, don’t you? What a scene you’re making in front of the girls, throwing teddy away and spitting out your dummy. Well, mummy knows how to deal with naughty babies. 

Yes, there is a red mark where mummy slapped your leg. Now I want you to go and pick teddy up, go on. Now, tell teddy you are very sorry for throwing him away and give him a big kiss. No, kiss him again, I want to see a big sloppy kiss, that’s better. Now tell teddy you love him in a big loud voice so we can all hear you, in your baby voice mind. Well-done Babykins.

Girls, that was very unkind, there was no need for you all to snigger like that, although it was funny wasn’t it? Babykins, as punishment for your disgraceful behaviour you will stand on your naughty stool so we can see what a naughty boy you are. I will use the pink ribbons to tie your dum-dum into place so you can’t throw it away in a baby tantrum.

Have you calmed down now? I should hope so too. Say sorry to your sister, don’t whisper, yes I know it’s difficult to speak with your dummy tied in but you can try.

Yes, it did sound like “sowwy” didn’t it Melissa? He does speak like a baby when he has his dummy in. What, make him use his dummy all the time? That is a good idea, Melissa.

Your sister is right Babykins. You’re obviously overtired and you need to go straight to beddy-byes. Melissa, pass me his jammie bottoms, will you? Yes, you’re right Harriet, they are babyish for an eighteen-year-old but you’ve seen how he behaves. I’m afraid he will never learn to be a good boy so he’ll be mummy’s little baby for a long time yet.

Come along baby, hold on to mummy’s shoulder to balance, that’s a good Babykins, put your left leg in first, no don’t shake it all about, well done, now the other, clever boy. Yes I know your jim-jam bottoms are too big for you, mummy had them made like that on purpose. What’s that? Well maybe you do look silly in oversized jammies but mummy has her reasons and I am sure none of the girl's minds what naughty babies look like in their pyjamas, do you, girls?

They think you look all cuddly-wuddly weddy for beddy-byes. Don’t you think so Harriet? 
See, everyone thinks so except you, and your opinion doesn’t count in this household does it Babykins? 

No, hands off! Never mind what the ribbons sewn to the side of your pyjama bottoms are for, they are for mummy to know and baby to find out about.

Oh dear not tears again, what a crybaby you are. Very well then, I’ll tell you. Remember why mummy replaced your bed with your lovely new cot? You kept getting out of bed after mummy had put you down for the night, didn’t you? Yes, I know you think “theven” o’clock is too early a bedtime for you but mummy knows best and your special cot stopped all that nonsense, didn’t it?

But what happens now? Baby cannot be trusted not to remove his jammies once he is tucked up in beddy-byes and mummy worries that he will catch a chill. So will you promise to keep your jammies on for mummy Babykins?

It’s all very well saying, yeth mummy, but I don’t think you are being truthful at all, so mummy is going to put your handy-pandies into these lovely soft lambswool mittens that your sister knitted for you. Isn’t Melissa a generous sister to her older brother?

No good shaking your head, Babykins, it’s bedtime mittens for you from now on. See how the yellow wool matches your jim-jams. 

Why Harriet thank you, I didn’t realise you could knit too. A pink set of mittens would be lovely, yes he has some pink jammies so they would be perfect.

Say thank you to Melissa and Harriet Babykins, a big hug and a kiss each I think, good Babykins. Yes, fank oo Mewissa and Howwiett, was a good attempt wasn’t it girls.

Handy-pandies please, that’s it, yes all your fingers are squished together, that’s the idea of the mittens you silly goose, now put your arms by your sides, that’s it. See, now I can tie your wrists to your pyjamas, yes, that’s what the ribbons are for. Perfect!

Now Babykins, time to give your sister her birthday present. Yes, that’s puzzled you hasn’t it. No, I know you aren’t allowed to have any money anymore but you still have something to give her, you’ll never guess. Shall I tell you? It’s your bottom!

Melissa wanted to give you your bedtime spanking as your present to her and how could I refuse, especially as she will be babysitting you soon. 

Tears again! But she hasn’t started yet. Yes sit on that chair Melissa and take him across your lap. Use both hands to pull him tightly onto your lap, that’s it. You see with his hands down by his side he can’t struggle. Now put your right leg across both of his legs and drag them toward yourself using your heel, well done!

Now you can pick up the paddle and begin. Oh stop whimpering, It can hardly hurt Babykins, after all, you are wearing thick towelling nappies, plastic baby pants and heavy flannel pyjamas.

Keep going Melissa, I know, it does tire your arm, take a rest. Pull him toward you again and don’t forget to scold him while you’re spanking. Tell him what a naughty little Babykins he is. That’s it, excellent stop now if you’re tired.

No, Melissa, I don’t think Harriet can take a turn at spanking your brother, perhaps another time. I think our eighteen-year-old baby needs putting to beddy-byes, don’t you?

Wave night-night to the girl’s Babykins. Good boy, mummy will bring teddy. Careful now, I know your pyjamas bottoms are too long but if you fall over mummy will make you crawl upstairs like the little baby you are. I know it's hard to balance with your handy-pandies tied to your side but do your best. That’s it, into the nursery. Yes I know it is very dark in here, all the better to help you sleep, my dear.

Mummy will just check your dummy is properly tightly tied in place otherwise you just spit it out, don’t you? Too late for promises I am afraid, now hold still while I tie the ribbon behind your head a bit tighter that's it. Breathe slowly and your dum-dum will bob in and out and you will soon get used to it and the rhythmic action will calm you and help you to sleep.

I’ll just lower this rail and mummy just has to give Babykins a little push and he topples straight into his cot, in you go. No, I’ve told you, babies don’t have pillows just lie still. Now you will know why mummy made your jammie bottoms so long. See, I just tie the excess material together and your footsies will be as helpless as your handy-pandies. Mummy can be certain you will be staying safely tucked up in your cot pinned snugly into your nappies, wearing your mittens and baby lamb jammies.

Mummy will tuck you in good and tight and snugly. Babykins won’t be getting out of beddy-byes tonight, will he? Now, shall I tuck teddy in beside you? Don't you want your teddy? Well, mummy thinks teddy will be sad to find Babykins doesn't love teddy anymore so mummy is going to tuck teddy beside you in any case.

What’s that? Mummy can’t make out what her eighteen-year-old baby is trying to say. You don't want to be mummy's baby anymore? That's a shame because mummy can't imagine you not being her Babykins. Mummy thinks you will be her Babykins for a very long time yet. Now, you just gurgle away babyishly while mummy sits with you until you fall fast asleep. 

Can you hear the girls outside playing and laughing while you are tucked up in bed? You can, good. Now Babykins must go to sleepy-byes.”
Is my pet lamb awake? Of course, he is. Look who’s here to see you? Yes, it’s Melanie your old girlfriend! How sweet, mummy loves to hear you gurgling away from behind your dummy. I’ve decided to keep him permanently in nappies, so much easier to cope with his babyish behaviour. When he has one of his tantrums, I just put him over my lap, spank him, then pop him nappied into the cot. As you can see he is confined in his cot for as long as I want him to be. Mummy’s Babykins has lovely long sleepy-byes doesn’t he? Yes, he does.

No need to blush pet lamb, Melanie knows what a big baby you are. Yes, the mittens and the hand restraints were his sister’s idea. We were so tired of him getting out of beddy-byes without permission that she devised this method to keep him tucked into bed.

Ha-ha don't you like mummy tickling under your chin?  Do you know, I think the excitement of seeing you has made Babykins wet his nappy? Let me see.
Naughty baby! Now mummy is very cross and will have to punish you. Hold still while I remove your jammie bottoms, that’s it. Thank you, Melanie, just pull the bows and his hands will be free, now, out you come onto the changing table.

Of course, you can Melanie, I don’t mind at all if you change Babykins. Oh for goodness sake not more crying, see what a baby he is Melanie? No, leave his mittens on. That’s right, clean him thoroughly Melanie; no it doesn’t matter if it hurts and he whimpers. Baby must be taught a lesson. Hush Melanie must learn if she is going to babysit you. Never mind shaking your head, mummy knows what’s best for her little Babykins.

Lie still! Or mummy will fetch the hairbrush, is that what you want? I thought not. Clean nappies are behind you, Melanie. Yes, nice and tight. Here let me pin them, no don’t worry, the tighter the better. Yes, those plastic pants are fine. No, it’s quite easy to buy such babyish prints in his size.

Babykins, say thank you to Melanie for changing your nappies for you, come along.

Pardon? Babykins! How rude. I am going to have to punish you for that outburst, you naughty baby. Over you go, no point in struggling, you know mummy is far stronger than her little eighteen-year-old baby.

Spank! Tell Melanie you’re a vewy sowwy Babykins, yes in your best baby voice. Say it!

Spank! Say, I love wearing my fluffy white nappies, Louder!

Spank! Tell Melanie you would love her to babysit you and tuck you into your cot at beddy-bye time.

Spank! Now promise to be mummy’s Babykins forever and ever. Clever boy

See, now we’ve had tears before breakfast time, dry those eyes and let’s get you downstairs for brekky-weccy shall we?

Of course, you haven’t seen the highchair before have you, Melanie? No, not specially made at all. They used to make them big like this years ago for older children who were fussy eaters and luckily I came across this example. As Babykins isn’t very tall he easily fits into it. Pink? Oh yes, Melissa insisted we paint it pink. Lift him up Melanie, that’s it and swing the tray across. There’s a brass catch you have to click into place...that’s it. There, Babykins is all secure in his highchair ready for his brekkies.

Melanie will fasten your bib on. Yes, you must wear a bib, you know what a mess you make. Pass me that bowl will you Melanie? I know, but it is very good for him. 

Babykins, I wish you would stop fidgeting. Sit still while mummy feeds you your breakfast. What do you mean you don’t like stewed prunes and cold custard? You have it every morning.

Yes, I know Melanie and I are having grown up food. Ha-Ha. no. you aren’t a grown up. How could you be? Sitting in your highchair wearing nappies, pink plastic baby pants and a towelling bib with a ducky-wucky on it.

Now open wide for the choo-choo train, wider.. and in it goes. Stop making that face it’s very good for you. Melanie, would you like to continue feeding your ex-boyfriend? I am sure he would appreciate that.

Yes that’s it, if he turns away just hold his chin and squeeze, his mouth will open and you can push the spoon in, that’s it. Don’t worry about the spillage, just scrape it off his face and bib and spoon it back in. He knows he has to clear the dish before he can leave his high chair. 

Come along babykins, just two more spoonfuls. There, all gone. Clever Babykins. Take his bib off now Melanie, just wipe his face with it and then with this damp cloth. Goodness, what a messy eater you are Babykins! Yes, it is just like having a real baby Melanie, although this one's eighteen!
Come along Babykins, down you come, that’s it, straight onto your knees like the baby you are. Now crawl over to the dresser and we shall get you dressed for your outing. Yes, that’s right. We’re going to take you on a lovely trip to the park to see the quack-quacks, aren't you a lucky baby? Now then, what shall we dress baby in for his outing today? 

Why don’t we let Melanie choose Babykins, I am sure you will love anything your old girlfriend chooses for you to wear won’t you sugar plum? Yes, all his baby clothes are in there, yes any drawer, pick anything you like.

Oh how sweet, baby’s pink bunny-rabbit footed onesie. He does look ever so cute wearing that particular one. Yes, I agree, it is lovely and babyish.

Babykins look at the lovely outfit Melanie has chosen for you. Ha-ha, certainly you can wear your jammies outside, you’re just a baby so no-one cares. See how he excited he is at your choice, Melanie? He just loves wearing his jammies, don’t you, my little diddums?

Ah-ah, naughty Babykins, down on all fours again unless you want yet another smacked botty? I thought not. No, they’re tears of joy, or they better be...

I think it would be easier if Babykins was put onto his changing mat. That’s much easier isn’t it? Hold still while Melanie puts your footsies in first. Make sure his tootsies go all the way into the padded foot, good. Now feel how soft his jim-jams are against his skin, they will keep him nice and cosy-wosy. Won’t they my precious?

That’s it, now get his arms in. Behave Babykins! Yes, you can punish him too if he doesn’t do as he is told, my dear. Stop fussing or you will go across Melanie’s lap do you hear? That’s better. Stop flapping the sleeves Babykins. Yes I know they are too long, I made them like that so you could grow into them. Maybe other eighteen-year-olds don't have to wear baby pyjamas, but their mummies don’t have eighteen-year-old sons who behave like babies and need to be spanked for misbehaviour! 

Wasn’t that sweet of Melanie to pick your going-outfit for you Babykins?  I want you to give her a big hug, go on. Oh, dear Babykins, that wasn’t a very enthusiastic hug, was it?  If you don't start being more babyish and affectionate mummy might think about returning Babykins to the nursery full time. Do you want to go back into the nursery and spend all day in your cot or playpen and being pushed around the garden taking naps in your pram? I thought not. Now hug Melanie again and thank her properly for choosing your baby jimmy-jams. I want to hear you using your sweetest lisping baby voice, come along. Yes, that was much better, mummy expects you to be sweet and affectionate to every female who fuss over you, or else!

Melissa, have you got your baby brother’s pushchair ready? Good girl. See how well behaved and sensible your sister is. I beg your pardon Babykins? Does she act like a baby? No, because she is a girl that’s why. All males of any age are babies, that’s why you have a bedtime and have to wear baby outfits. Well if you think you look silly you only have yourself to blame but we all think you look really sweet in your onesie.

Now, get into your pushchair and Melissa will help put your mittens on. Oh yes, you are wearing them Babykins, I am not having you catch a chill, they will keep your handy-pandies warm and cosy In any case, your sister made them especially for today.

Babykins! Apologise at once. That’s it; a big kiss for your younger sister, you should be ashamed of yourself after all her hard work to make you those lovely mittens.

Yes Melanie, strap him in. Somehow I don’t think your brother would be running away dressed as he is but we wouldn’t want him to fall out and injure himself would we?

No, Teddy isn’t coming with us today; I thought Mr Flopsy would be a better choice since Melanie’s mummy gave him to you. Besides Mr Flopsy complements your bunny jammies; yes Mr Flopsy has to come with us so none of your tantrums. Now, mummy will pull up the plastic cover, so if you sit quietly and hug Mr Flopsy, no one will take any notice of you sitting in your pushchair. All anyone will see is baby out with mummy and his big sisters. All ready? Off we go.

Isn’t it a lovely day to visit the park Babykins? Tut what a naughty thing to say, are you missing Teddy, never mind, you just hug Mr Flopsy until we reach the duck pond.                                                                                                                                                                                            
Look Babykins, there are Melanie and her mummy waiting for us. Let me just move the rain cover. Ha-ha, It’s no good trying to hide behind your bunny Babykins, we can all see you.

Say hello to Melanie’s mummy Babykins, don’t mumble, say hello to Aunty properly like a good boy. That’s better. Yes they are adorable, aren’t they?  I don’t think Babykins likes his bunny rabbit pyjamas too much but mummy does and that’s the main thing. Isn’t that right my pet lamb, oh a little sulky are we? Perhaps the cat got your tongue?

Now then, why don’t we get you out of your pushchair so you can feed the quack-quacks? Yes, people may well see you in your jim-jams but if you don’t get out of that pushchair this minute people will see mummy put you over her knee and taking your jammies down to smack your little bottom. I thought that would make you change your mind, out you come. Take your bag of breadcrumbs and walk to the edge. Careful now. Melanie, take his hand thank you. We don’t want Babykins falling in now, do we?

Well, the duckies won’t come if you don’t call to them pet lamb. Why don’t you pretend you are a duck? How to ducks talk Babykins, yes they go quack-quack don’t they. You call to them, louder Babykins. Here they come, throw the breadcrumbs Babykins.  Keep shouting quack-quack, it’s so funny. Clever boy.

What's that you say, girls? Yes, a walk around the pond seems a splendid idea.
Did you enjoy feeding the ducks Babykins? No? I can’t imagine why not. There’s no pleasing you sometimes Babykins. Come along and take mummy's hand, we are off for a stroll.
Yes, you will walk, because mummy says so that’s why. Right, Babykins I warned you, over to that park bench.
Stop struggling; you are only drawing attention to yourself. You are lucky I am not taking down your jim-jams and nappy and giving you a bare bottom spanking.

Spank! Naughty Babykins will walk in the park in his bunny rabbit jim-jams if mummy says so!

Spank! Babykins does not answer mummy back!

Spank! Babykins will learn that mummy makes all his decisions even if he is eighteen!

Spank! Mummy is going to make an example of you once and for all!

Up you get onto the park bench. Yes, stand up there. Stop crying and do as you are told. Yes, no doubt you do feel foolish standing up there in your bunny slippers and pyjamas but mummy hasn’t started yet. Stand still and listen, no, don’t you dare get down. Now Babykins you are going to perform the teapot song all the way through with all the actions. Never mind you won’t. You will, or I will send you to nursery school for a whole week where Mrs Foster will be in charge of you, oh yes, believe me, I would. I thought that would make you think, remember what happened the last time Mrs Foster had you under her control

Come along the sooner you start the sooner you can get down.
One, two, three.
I’m a little teapot, short and stout
Here is my handle here is my spout  Hand on your hip Babykins
When I get all steamed up, hear me shout
Just tip me over and pour me out!   Lean over, arm like a spout Babykins

I’m a clever teapot, yes it’s true
Here’s an example of what I can do 
I can change my handle to my spout  Switch arms Babykins
Just tip me over and pour me out.

Well done Babykins! You have never performed it better and luckily Melanie's mummy caught it all on camera so we can enjoy it all over again. Down you come and mummy will put your mittens back on. No, you can’t go back into your pushchair, you need some exercise.
That’s it hold tight to mummy and Melanie’s hand and we will walk all the way back to their house. 

Here we are. Are you tired after your walk Babykins? Of course, you are.
We have a surprise for you Babykins, Melanie is going to take you for a lovely warm bath and get you all ready for bye-byes. Oh yes, she is. She will bathe you, dress you in some clean jim-jams and put you to bed. Yes, that’s right you are going to spend the night here. What’s the matter Babykins? Don’t you want to spend time with your ex-girlfriend? Well, you will have to get used to it. Melanie is going to be helping mummy and your sister to make sure you are constantly supervised as our Babykins, what a lucky Babykins you are!

My, we have had a lot of tears today, We really should get you to bed earlier. Well really it’s not up to you is it Babykins. I suggest that a new five o’clock bedtime would be more appropriate from now on, is that agreed girls? Good, it’s unanimous. Your days will consist of being fed your meals sitting in your high-chair, napping in the garden on your blankie when weather permits, going for walks in your pushchair and then home in time to be bathed then tucked up in your cot, goodness after your busy days Babykins will be all tired out by five o'clock won't he? We will keep you dressed in nappies and jammies permanently from now on Babykins and tuck you up at five every night without fail. Your sister and your ex-girlfriend will find you much easier to manage that way.

Hush now don’t get upset, here is your dummy to calm you while Melanie makes up your baby bottle. You will soon get used to your new life of baby routine, you can look forward to being mummy’s Babykins for a long time to come!'

Tuesday, 31 July 2018

Pyjama Prisoner

I feel as if I have just been released from some penal pyjama prison after being guarded by two mature female warders who ensured I was their pyjama clad inmate. In reality, I spent a few weeks at my aunt's house recuperating from my latest bout of illness. Throughout my visit, my aunt and Mrs Jacobson contrived to keep me permanently attired in pyjamas. As you can imagine this was particularly embarrassing when their daily teatime visitors called at four pm.

I was forced to sit with the ladies wearing whatever nightwear had been allotted to me that day., if outdoors I had a tartan blanket tucked around me but indoors I was made to sit in female company wearing the pyjamas that had been chosen for me. Once the ladies had left, it was time for my daily bath, naturally supervised and perpetrated by Mrs Jacobson. Once I had been bathed I was put into clean pyjamas ready for my six-thirty bedtime as my aunt has decided my frequent illnesses are caused by a lack of sleep. Subsequently, she amended my bedtime to ensure I received at least thirteen hours in bed each day seven days a week. My two warders maintained strictly to their methods and my bedtime was always adhered to despite my pleadings to be allowed to stay up late until seven pm. Indeed on occasion, Mrs Jacobson would put me across her lap for a bedtime spanking to remind me that I was a "naughty little boy".

It's good to be home.

Monday Pyjamas

Tuesday Pyjamas

Wednesday Pyjamas

Thursday Pyjamas

Friday Pyjamas

Saturday Pyjamas

Sunday Pyjamas

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.