Aunty's little boy

My aunt is a domineering person who insists on treating me as a small boy even though I am now almost eighteen. I first went to live with her when I was nine, the shock of losing my parents stunted my growth and development and today I am only a little over 4ft 5inches tall.

Being without any academic qualifications and reliant solely on my aunt for financial support I find myself tied to her without hope of ever escaping her influence. She delights in putting me to bed early in front of her friends, she does so merely because she can. I can honestly say that since the age of nine there has not been one night when I have not been tucked up in bed by 8pm at the latest. Not one.

My day starts at 6.30 am when aunty pulls back my bedclothes and ushers me out of bed. I breakfast downstairs dressed in my pyjamas before washing and being dressed in my “play clothes” by aunty. I always wear boys white y-front underpants and vest. Aunty says she can spot stains easier with white underwear. Aunty insists I wear short trousers, usually ones with a bib front that a toddler would wear; pyjama bottoms are the only long pants I ever get to wear. Aunty makes me wear tee shirts with a babyish motif emblazoned on the front such as a teddy bear or a nursery rhyme character. I also have to wear white knee length socks and along with babyish slippers my daytime wear is complete. When we go out I have sensible black shoes and an old fashioned, boys bottle green Macintosh. In summer I wear strap over sandals and a royal blue, yes royal blue blazer. I must hold my aunts hand at all times when outside and in the presence of "grown ups" I must remain silent and not speak unless spoken to. Only last week we were out and visited the tearoom in town. As usual I was allowed only a glass of milk, aunty began talking to the lady at the next table. As always on these occasions I remain very quiet and avoid eye contact. Aunty's new friend eventually commented, "you really must bring your little boy along to the summer fare on Wednesday, there are lots of activities for him to enjoy, it starts at six." Aunty smiles, turned to me and replied, “tell the nice lady what you will be wearing at six pm on Wednesday." Blushing, I whispered, “please miss I shall be in my pyjamas ready for bed." Aunty smiled and said to me," now tell the lady what happens at six thirty. Go on speak up." I blushed before whispering, " please miss, six thirty is my bedtime."

The lady looked taken aback. "So soon, it’s rather an early bedtime isn’t it? How old is your little boy, six o’clock seems very early for him to be in his pyjamas" She said, peering closer at me. It must be said that close up I have perceptible signs of adolescence. My appearance and height usually make people assume that I am only a little boy. Aunty said,  “so nice to have met you,” and marched me away.

Aunty bent down to whisper in my ear “As soon as I get you home I'm putting you into your pyjamas and then it's straight to bed for you" I remonstrated with her as best I could; her hand was dragging me homeward.

Why, I asked was I being put to bed? I was told it was for not answering the lady in the tea shop quickly enough. That's right, at 17 years old I am put to bed in the afternoon for something so trivial. Aunty never goes back on her word. As soon as we were home I was dressed in my little boy pyjamas, put over my aunts lap and spanked before being put immediately to bed.